All The Saints We See
by rochesters
Summary: Leonard McCoy reconciles his feelings about Jim during the captain's disappearance and equally mysterious reappearance while grappling with the possibility that there may are problems he cannot fix. (Sequel to All The Sinners Crawl.)
1. Chapter One

**All The Saints We See**  
By Rochester

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Chapter One**

It's safe to say that McCoy absolutely fucking _hates it_ when Jim does something idiotic.

It's like an itch he can't scratch, making him want make it go away or punch Jim in the face.

He's hated it since the Academy, when Jim's stupidity was rampant and abound (and seemingly with no end in sight).

He hated it during the Narada incident even though Jim's recklessness saved the planet (and possibly the universe).

He hated it when Jim walked into the warp core and sacrificed his life in order to save others, including the good doctor as the _Enterprise_ fell from space.

And McCoy hates (absolutely _fucking_ hates it) when Jim – just for a moment – seems to have learned his lesson does something even more idiotic than before.

This time is no different from the others and McCoy wants to throttle the kid as he stands on the bridge next to Spock as Uhura tries to contact the shuttle that has seemingly disappeared off the _Enterprise's_ radar. While the half-Vulcan's hands are clasped behind his back with a stonewall expression on his face (in typical Spock fashion), McCoy's arms are crossed over his chest as he scowls something fierce.

He is muttering under his breath and practically burning a hole in the floor as he paces to and fro. The rounded tips of his ears are burning in anger and he's pretty sure that his cheeks are a vivid shade of pink. "You shouldn't have let him talk you into it," McCoy growls as he makes a pass by Spock's stoic figure.

The half-Vulcan raises a brow. "I do not understand," he replies.

"Letting Jim go out in a prototype shuttle to run amuck," McCoy says a bit louder as he comes back around, stopping next to the Spock. "You know that he _always_ finds a way to cause trouble – especially when he gets restless!"

"When the captain asked to pilot the shuttle, I do not believe that he intended on causing a disruption to the ship's activities," Spock says coolly.

McCoy grunts, not satisfied. "Says you," he mutters under his breath before a swell of anger pushes itself against his throat. "How the hell does a shuttle vanish into thin air?" he barks.

"That is what we are precisely trying to find out, doctor," Spock tells him, casting a dark stare in his direction before turning back to address Sulu.

McCoy rolls his eyes and begins pacing once more. And thinking. Thinking about how it's just like Jim to push the limit, to do something so fucking dumb, and to disappear in a Federation shuttle that has barely come out of beta testing.

Of course, the doctor knows that there is a possibility (a slim one) that Jim didn't mean to disappear with the shuttle.

The entire event that leads up to the kid's disappearance is…strange, for lack of a better word. One minute Jim's voice is on the comm, sounding jovial and mischievous as he pilots the shuttle in space.

McCoy can clearly see the shuttle flying in maneuvers that the machine is meant to do, a little white speck flying against the black. It does sharp turns and what McCoy swears looks like a loopy-loop before he starts begging and pleading with Spock to recall Jim back to the ship.

"Spock," McCoy says with a brow that arches up to his hairline. It's all he needs to say because the half-Vulcan gets it.

Spock leans over the armrest of the captain's chair and says, "Captain, perhaps it's time to return to the ship."

"Already?" he hears Jim whine. "I barely got out here!"

"It's not a suggestion," McCoy snaps. "Get back here right now!"

The bridge hears Jim snort in defiance. McCoy hears Sulu and Chekov snickering at the front of the bridge, trying to conceal their laughter as best as they can. The doctor turns his head, seeing both Uhura and Carol biting their lips in amusement.

"Okay dad," Jim quips as the shuttle on the screen does another sharp turn.

McCoy can feel his heart stop, even as the shuttle levels out and all seems right in the world. "Goddammit kid," he curses, "no more loopy-loops! Get your ass back here before I make someone fly out to get you!"

Jim is laughing because that's just what Jim does when he knows McCoy is about to lose it. The doctor is seething in white hot rage as Jim says, "Bones, you need to get out more."

"Captain," Spock says, his voice commanding and immediate so that McCoy has no time to launch into a curse filled tirade, "it would be wise for you to return."

Jim makes a whiny sound. "You two are no fun."

"No fun!" McCoy barks. "You are the only person I've ever met that finds having your stomach left up somewhere in the black as the rest of you is plummeting down at breakneck, G-Force speeds fun!"

Jim doesn't respond, only putting more fuel on the proverbial fire.

"Look you infant," McCoy growls, "I'm going to hypospray you into next week if you don't get your ass back here right now!"

There is more silence. He and Spock exchange a look.

"Captain?" Spock asks, his brow raised. "Captain?" He turns in the chair, towards Uhura's direction. "Have we lost his signal?"

Uhura's brow is creased as she plugs away at her station. "There seems to be some sort of disturbance," she says, turning towards Spock. "I don't understand it…the communiqué is active, but all I'm getting is static."

"Commander, the navigation sensors are picking up a disturbance as well," Chekov says from his station as he turns his head. "They are all over the place!"

Sulu pipes up next, "Commander, I am having the same readings."

"I don't understand what's happening," Carol says, her voice laced in confusion. "These ionic waves are off the charts…"

They all look to the viewscreen, watching the shuttle approaching the ship when there's a flash of light that illuminates the entire bridge and washes out the black that surrounds them.

It's like a supernova, brilliant and blinding, so much so that McCoy covers his eyes that tear up at the harsh light. An impossibly long moment passes and as McCoy lowers his hand, he hears Sulu say, "Where's the shuttle?"

McCoy swears that his blood turns to ice at those words. He looks to the viewscreen and lets out a strangled cry as he registers that he's just looking at space.

There's no shuttle.

It's just…_gone_.

Chaos erupts around him. He hears the edge in Spock's usually calm demeanor - the complete and utter panic that latches onto his voice - as he orders the bridge crew to figure out what the hell is going on (McCoy's words, not the commander's).

"Our sensors aren't picking up anything, sir," Chekov says in that accented voice of his. He sounds nervous, unsure as he turns in his chair, his eyes momentarily catching McCoy's.

Spock raises a brow, stark black against marble. "That is illogical," he replies. "The captain's shuttle was just on our radar. It cannot vanish without warning."

"Sir, I understand this," Chekov tells him, "but our sensors -"

"I don't care what the sensors tell you, Mr. Chekov," Spock uncharacteristically barks, causing everyone on the bridge to pause and stare. "Locate the captain. _Now_."

McCoy swallows roughly, hearing the desperation that fills Spock's voice and matches his own. _Where the hell are you, kid_, McCoy thinks to himself as he stands uselessly on the bridge. "Spock," he says suddenly.

Spock turns to him. "Yes doctor?"

"His life signs monitor," the doctor replies, his thoughts racing ahead of his mouth. He cannot finish his sentence.

But Spock is a smart son of a bitch and nods. "Please load the captain's life signs monitor onto the viewscreen," he orders.

The viewscreen changes, splitting in half to show the empty space on one side and Jim's life signs. The numbers and lines that monitor the kid's vitals are unmoving and unwavering.

"That's impossible," McCoy chokes as he practically stumbles towards the viewscreen, eyes widening. He turns to Spock. "Something's wrong with the monitor."

Spock narrows his eyes, trying to understand. "Has it malfunctioned?"

McCoy shakes his head, stupefied, as he turns his head to one of the bridge crew. "Show the captain's vitals from five minutes ago," McCoy orders, disregarding Spock's authority. He has a feeling that the half-Vulcan won't mind.

"Yes doctor," the crew member tells him. With the touch of her fingers against her console, the life signs monitor is taken back to five minutes prior.

_When Jim was still here_, McCoy thinks, numbly. He watches the screen, seeing his friend's vitals roar to life. They are steady: from the thump of his pulse to his brain waves. Jim is excited to be piloting the shuttle, but there are no signs of distress. He's having the time of his life and McCoy can almost hear the kid's laughter filling the bridge once more.

Then the vitals sudden drop, as if someone disconnected Jim.

"Doctor," Spock says.

McCoy cranes his head, not realizing that Spock was standing next to him. They stare at each other for a moment, both men so frightened that neither will admit, before the doctor breaks away. "That's not supposed to happen," he whispers loud enough for only Spock to hear.

The half-Vulcan does not reply, but his silence is telling enough.

* * *

McCoy finds himself in the captain's ready room no less than an hour later. Spock is sitting across from him, his eyes trained on the viewscreen in front of them, addressing Admiral Archer.

He's heard of the illustrious admiral and perhaps has seen him from afar, but this is the first time that McCoy has truly met him.

Archer is a gruff, no nonsense man, which McCoy can respect. His face is marred with tight, tension filled lines.

It's not every day that you're dragged out of bed to hear that the captain of your flagship is missing. Not just missing (because Jim has a knack of trouble), but simply gone.

"I don't understand this," Archer grumbles as he sets down the coffee mug on his desk. He sees that Spock is about to go through another droll explanation (a guess, really, because no one has a fucking clue as to what the hell is going on) and raises his hand, cutting the commander off. "I understand what you have told me, Commander. It just…" His voice trails off and his lips are pressed into a tight line. It would take an idiot not to see that Archer, despite his authoritative airs is concerned. "I don't understand how he's there on minute and gone the next. I assume your crew has checked to see who or what is in the same vicinity as the _Enterprise_."

Spock nods. "Yes, admiral. Our research has not come up with substantial information explaining the Captain's disappearance."

"And what of the shuttle?" Archer asks.

Spock arches his brow. "There is nothing, sir," he answers carefully.

"Nothing?" Archer nearly laughs as he shifts in his seat. "What do you mean by nothing, commander? There must be a debris field…"

McCoy feels his stomach bottoming out at what Archer is implying. He opens his mouth to speak, but Spock is quicker.

"Are you implying that the Captain is deceased?" Spock asks.

Archer's nostrils flare. "Well, _commander_, shuttles and Starfleet captains don't just vanish into thin fucking air!"

"Admiral," Spock says evenly, though McCoy can see the white hot rage beginning to boil under the half-Vulcan's cool exterior, "we are speaking of James Kirk. Anything is possible with him."

Archer raises a brow. "Commander," he practically growls. "You are treading a _very thin_ line of insubordination."

Spock says nothing because silent is more than words in this situation. McCoy watches the tense moment pass, resulting in Archer's heavy sigh and the older man pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You mentioned an ionic disturbance," he breathes.

"Yes sir. Before the captain _disappeared_ –" McCoy notices how Spock emphasizes the word because not even the half-Vulcan wants to think for an iota that Jim is dead – "Lieutenant Marcus reported a violent shift in ionic waves surrounding the perimeter of the Beta shuttle. Our communications officer as well as our navigator reported inference with their monitoring equipment."

Archer perks up and begins to shift through his PADD, searching the report that Spock had hastily put together before their meeting. "And?"

"Precisely five seconds later, the bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ witnessed an intergalactic phenomenon," Spock explains.

McCoy speaks before he has the chance to stop himself. "Like a supernova," he says.

"A supernova?" Archer inquires.

Spock bows his head in agreement. "Not quite an accurate description, however it will suffice," he replies. "We had visual contact with the Beta shuttle until that moment and when the phenomenon receded, the shuttle and Captain Kirk were gone."

"And there was so debris field or evidence of an explosion," Archer asks again, his tone filled with awe and doubt.

Spock shifts in his seat and McCoy notices that he looks _almost_ uncomfortable. "No sir," he says.

"What about his life signs monitor?"

McCoy clears his throat. "It appears to have gone…offline."

"It malfunctioned?" Archer practically whispers, his skin paling.

It's a known fact that the life sign monitors – or chips, more accurately – never malfunction thanks to years of perfecting the device. The fact that Jim's vitals simply spurted to a halt without warning is just…disturbing.

"We're not quite sure," McCoy replies. "Our Chief of Engineering…" He hears Archer scoff at the mere mention of Scotty and it takes everything – _EVERYTHING_ – in his body to keep from throwing something at the screen while screaming insults about admiral's beloved beagles. "…is looking into every possibility as to why this occurred."

Archer nods. "Aside from the possibility of the captain being killed in action?"

"As Commander Spock said…" McCoy begins to say until Archer's baritone cuts him off.

"I _know_ what Commander Spock said," he snaps, "but you and your crew must at _every_ possibility, Doctor McCoy!"

McCoy grits his teeth. "We have and Jim being dead isn't one of them," he growls.

"Because you say so?"

"I know so."

Archer looks like he might continue this stupid argument, but to McCoy's surprise (and Spock's, if the man ever showed emotion), he concedes and slumps back in his chair. "You must think me to be a Starfleet hard ass, doctor, but I can assure you that I am gravely concerned about Captain Kirk's current whereabouts. I was good friends with Admiral Pike and I knew how fond he was of Jim. I like the kid; he's become a good man and I am proud of him. For him to simply disappear in front of his ship…I don't know what to think. If you insist that he is still alive, I will order that all ships be on high alert for any activity regarding this matter."

McCoy and Spock trade a look before Spock turns to the screen.

"Thank you, admiral," Spock says. "We are grateful for your assistance and concern."

Archer shrugs. "I wish I could do more," he sighs before furrowing his brow. "Could it have been Klingons? Orions? Andorians? Someone out to cause trouble?"

"The likelihood of Orions and Andorians is low, admiral," Spock replies. "While Klingons are a distinct possibility, I remain doubtful as this area of space is not known for Klingon traffic."

Archer nods. "Okay," he relents. "I thought I'd try. Please keep me cognizant of any new information. It's not every day our face of Starfleet vanishes without a trace."

_Because you don't know Jim Kirk as well as you think you do_, McCoy deliberates to himself as Spock says pleasantries to Archer before disconnecting the communiqué. He swears he hears Spock let out a sigh as he relaxes into his seat. "That was a waste of time," McCoy grumbles.

"Agreed," Spock replies. "However, protocol dictates that we must information Starfleet in the unlikely event of a captain's disappearance."

McCoy cocks a brow. "You know perfectly well that Jim doesn't do things like halves. If he's going to get himself into a heap of trouble, he's going all the damn way and taking no prisoners."

"I am aware of Jim's penchant for adventure," Spock says mildly, "but I believe this scenario to be different."

McCoy finds himself agreeing with Spock, regardless if he wants to or not. "I know," he whispers.

"I will have Lieutenant commander Scott go over the ionic waves frequencies with Lieutenant Marcus, as well as the possibility of a long distance beam out," Spock declares as he rises from his seat.

McCoy swallows the rapidly forming lump in his throat. "Do you…do you think someone kidnapped him?"

"As you declared to Admiral Archer, we are looking at all possibilities, doctor, and unfortunately that is one of them," Spock answers.

McCoy gets to his feet. "Is it even possible to beam an entire shuttle to another location?"

"We'll have to see what our Chief of Engineering finds," Spock tells him before leaving the ready room.

McCoy stands in the room, looking around and feeling Jim's presence despite the kid being god knows where. It's just like Jim to have this effect on people, mainly McCoy, because even when he's not around, all the doctor can feel is his sunshine personality and those hauntingly blue eyes watching his every move.

Later that day – though it's difficult to tell because they're in the black and the darkness is a consistent – McCoy finds himself outside of Jim's quarters and punching in his medical override code into the keypad near the doorframe.

The door slides open, allowing the lights from the hallway to spill into Jim's darkened quarters and casts McCoy's shadow across the carpeted floor. He steps inside and commands the lights to turn on, illuminating the room.

Everything is as chaotic as Jim left it that morning: his command gold shirt is haphazardly draped over the side of the couch, his boots are next to the door to the head that Jim shares with Spock, and a book that lays face down on his desk is untouched.

McCoy lifts the book – one of the paperbacks that Jim loves beyond all comprehension – and sees that the pages are worn and dog-eared. He has no idea where his friend left off and it pains him as he sets it down, wondering if he'll ever know.

If he'll ever see Jim again.

If the last words he'll ever say to him was a tirade of frustration.

McCoy thumbs the book's tattered cover and swallows down the lump that threatens to suffocate him. Or perhaps it's the smell of Jim – of sandalwood, clean laundry, and mischief. "Dammit kid," he mutters to no one before he goes to Jim's liquor cabinet and uncorks his whiskey – the good stuff that he hides behind the vodka and tequila.

McCoy sits down on the couch with a generous glass of the amber liquid in his hand and sips as he surveys the room.

Jim _should_ be here with him, excitedly telling him about how the Beta shuttle maneuvers and handles despite the doctor not caring. He should be bouncing around his quarters like a fucking puppy on uppers, but instead McCoy is sitting in a quiet room with only a glass of whiskey and the hum of the _Enterprise_ to keep him company.

Figures he would realize his deepening feelings at a time like this because Leonard McCoy has horrible timing.

And the universe is a cruel mistress.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

He wakes up in Jim's quarters, disoriented and body rebelling from drinking on an empty stomach. As the whiskey clears, McCoy realizes that the unkempt bed he's lying in is not his own and it smells of the shampoo that Jim uses.

It makes his heart ache (or perhaps it's his stomach).

McCoy detangles himself from the mess of sheets and blankets with a groan before he spies his half-emptied glass of whiskey sits on Jim's bedside table. There is a ring on the surface from condensation, which he wipes with his sleeve.

Not that Jim would care because his desk is littered with the same rings, but McCoy is a guest and his momma raised him right.

McCoy shuffles out of the bedroom, leaning heavily against the doorframe, and squinting at the main living space with tired eyes.

He half expects Jim to stroll out of the head, toweling off his hair and being obnoxious because Jim is a morning person who doesn't need three cups of coffee before being able to face the masses.

Except, the captain's quarters are unsettlingly quiet and McCoy decides to get out of them as soon as he can.

He searches for his discarded boots, which he finds near the couch, and proceeds to pull them on when the door to the shared head opens.

McCoy looks up and sees Spock standing in the doorway, looking as though he is relieved until he sees the doctor sitting on the couch. He watches the glint in the half-Vulcan's eyes die and hears the sad, steady exhale of breath.

"I thought…" Spock starts to say, his voice trailing off. His lips are still parted, as if he's going to speak again. His reaction is so raw, so _human_ that McCoy is taken aback.

It seems that Jim's disappearance isn't affecting just him.

"Sorry," McCoy apologies, his tone sincere and clear of any gruffness. "I came in to get the good whiskey since he drank my stash and I fell asleep."

Spock nods in understanding. "Yesterday was a taxing day for everyone," he says neutrally as he watches the doctor with those dark eyes.

"I'll see myself out," McCoy tells him as he goes back to lacing up one of his boots.

"Do not let me deter you from staying here," Spock says. "If you find comfort in being in Jim's quarters, I am sure that he would not mind."

McCoy shrugs. "I would find more comfort in finding the idiot," he laments, more to himself than to Spock.

"As would I," Spock replies.

McCoy gives the commander a side-long glance and lets out a frustrated sigh. "Just when I think that kid is going to learn from his mistakes and keep his ass in line, he does something else," he complains as he pulls on his other boot. He stops and stares at Spock. "For once, I would want him to not volunteer himself and just sit that stupid chair like he's supposed to."

"I believe that is not in the captain's nature," Spock responds.

McCoy shakes his head. "No. Common sense is _definitely_ not in Jim's nature." He focuses on getting his boot laced up because he can feel his irritation rising.

"You are displaying signs of anger," Spock tells him in that matter-of-fact tone that drives the doctor crazy. There is a softer overture, unlike other times.

"Aren't you angry at him?" McCoy grumbles as he looks at Spock. "I know that it's not your lot in life to show your emotions, but even _you_ must feel something about this."

Spock arches his brow and seems to think on this for a moment. "I feel," he begins, "a mixture of hurt, worry, and anger. None of it is directed at Jim, but rather at the situation."

"Tell you what, Spock," McCoy spits. "I'll be pissed off at the Golden Boy and you can keep your true feelings fixed on the situation."

"I do not understand."

"You enable him!" McCoy finally snaps, pointing his finger at Spock. The half-Vulcan looks surprised (as surprised as a Vulcan can) at the doctor's outburst. "You question his idiocracy _after_ the fact and then blame everything else _but_ him!" McCoy can feel his cheeks burning. "He talked you into letting him fly out in the Beta shuttle! How do I know this? Scotty told me! You know Jim gets impulsive when he's bored and he does the _stupidest_ shit when he's bored! And now he's disappeared to god knows where. And with god knows who! For all I know, he's playing sex slave to a gaggle of female Orions and having the time of his damn life. Starfleet is actually considering that he's dead…"

Spock straightens his posture and places his hands behind his back. "I told Admiral Archer that the evidence does not conclude that the captain is decease. There is no debris field…"

"…maybe that – whatever the hell it is – incinerated him and that shuttle! He could be dead for all we know!"

"The life signs monitor would have provided evidence to support this theory," Spock interrupts. "It did not."

McCoy grits his teeth so hard that his jaw aches. "It doesn't matter what you told Archer or what the evidence supports! If we don't find him, they'll declare him missing in action and we'll be shipped off onto our next mission without ever knowing what the hell happened to him!"

He watches Spock nearly flinching at the sheer volume of his outburst. Instead of immediately responding, Spock waits McCoy out, allowing him to steady his breathing and collect himself before the half-Vulcan speaks. "I will not allow that to happen," he tells McCoy.

His words should comfort McCoy, but instead it makes his stomach twist into knots. "I don't know if I believe you," he practically whispers. "You and your need to follow protocol."

"Protocol does not have its place in this state of affairs."

If Jim were here, he would probably drop dead from the shock of Spock's words. Hell, McCoy can hardly believe that the commander even said it aloud.

_God kid,_ McCoy thinks to himself as he balls his fists. _Just come home in one piece. I won't even get mad at you for this one. I'll let you skip going to Sick Bay. Just come home._

"We will find him," Spock says aloud.

McCoy laughs bitterly. "Is that your human side or your logical side talking?"

"It is a gut feeling, as Jim would say."

It should make him feel better, but it doesn't.

* * *

Jim's presence isn't confined to his quarters or the bridge, but everywhere on the _Enterprise_. It lingers in every corner, every nook.

His voice – loud and boisterous – should be booming through the hallways as Jim _fucking struts_ his way to the bridge. Instead, there is an uncomfortable silence and even more uncomfortable glances from crew members.

His absence is duly noted – _especially_ in Sick Bay.

McCoy has shut himself inside of his office, only coming out to use the head or refill his canteen with replicated coffee. He occupies his time with paperwork and going through inventory – anything to keep him from studying the life signs monitor that is loaded on his PADD.

The thought of seeing those lines and numbers in flux, only to suddenly stop is too painful to watch.

He wants Jim to stroll in to pester him with something mundane and tease him when McCoy gets frustrated with him. He wants to see Jim's nose wrinkle in distaste when McCoy calls him in an infant or a child (or an ignorant hick) before dramatically says his nickname with a roll of his too blue eyes.

More than anything, he just wants Jim to come bursting through the door like nothing happened.

As McCoy lets out a heavy sigh, his comm beeps once, then twice. He reaches for it and flips it open, growling out a greeting.

"Sorry to bother yeh, doctor," Scotty says, his voice traveling through technology. "I was wonderin' if yeh had a chance to look over the life sign monitor."

McCoy swallows roughly. "I haven't had a chance," he replies, voice soft and sad.

"I understand," Scotty tells him. "If yeh want, I could look it over myself and comm yeh if I have any questions or find somethin' that looks off."

God bless the crazy Scotsman and his heart of gold. McCoy squeezes the bridge of his nose between pinched fingers and shakes his head. "I can do it," he says. "Just give me a little bit."

"Are yeh sure?"

_No_, McCoy thinks as his says, "yes" aloud.

He can hear Scotty clear his throat. "I can come by in a tick," he offers. "I'll even bring my good Scotch with me."

"Not the shit you _aren't making_ behind the turbines," McCoy snaps. "And don't act like you're not. Jim told me…"

Tears prick his eyes at the mere mention of Jim's name and that horrible lump is forming in his throat once more. When he swallows, he feels his throat muscles struggling to move.

"We'll find him," Scotty tells McCoy when he arrives in Sick Bay, standing in the doorway with a bottle of Scotch in hand. He looks just as shaken as the doctor feels, pale and stricken. "Yeh know we will."

McCoy doesn't say anything because if he does, he'll jinx their luck. Instead, he reaches for the tumblers that he keeps in his desk drawer and brings them out, setting them next to a stack of PADDs that need signatures.

He and Scotty drink in silence, each man nursing the Scotch, which is actually pretty good. Eventually, Scotty pulls McCoy's PADD over to him and flips through the readings of Jim's monitor, his murky blue eyes trained on the screen.

"Say doctor, do yeh know the range on this?" the Scotsman asks as he looks up, his brow arched.

McCoy pinches his lips together, savoring the burn of alcohol in his mouth. "Range?"

"Aye," Scotty replies. "These things must have a limit. Yeh know - when the subject is out of range and we cannae get er receive information."

McCoy hasn't even thought about that. The thought has never crossed his mind and the idea rings in a whole new set of implications. "I…I don't know," he says, fumbling over his Scotch soaked tongue as he leans forward and snatches the PADD from Scotty. He flicks through the device in an attempt to answer Scotty's question. "I've never even thought about it," he admits as his fingertip slides over the screen. "We always have access to every crew member's monitor, even when they are planet side. It was never a question."

"Aye," Scotty says with a hint of sympathy in his voice. "Is it possible to turn it off? Yeh know...tamper with the monitor."

McCoy shrugs. "Anything is possible at this point," he sighs, setting down the PADD. "I can't find anything."

"That's something though," Scotty offers as he takes a sip from his tumbler. "Means that the monitor may have been tampered with and that Jim _is_ alive, despite what Archer may think."

The Scotsman has a point. It should be comforting, but it's not. Not really.

It means that Jim is being held against his will somewhere in the darkness and silence of space. While the doctor is sure that the kid giving his captors a run for their money, the aching pain of worry in his stomach only grows.

"I'll report back to the commander," Scotty tells him after the room has remained silent for too long. He has a worried expression on his homely face. "Yeh goin' to be okay, Len?"

McCoy bows his head and shrugs his shoulders. "Dunno yet," he whispers. "It seems like we just got him back…"

He hears Scotty clearing his throat as he remembers their face off with Khan. McCoy feels for the man, since he was the one who found Jim barely crawling towards the door as the kid's life slipped through his fingers.

"We should have never let him go on that shuttle," McCoy utters, non-accusatory, as he shakes his head slowly. "He should have stayed on the bridge…"

He feels Scotty's hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't help to dwell on it now," Scotty replies as squeezes it gently. "All we can do it find him."

"What if we can't," McCoy practically moans as he lifts his head, his eyes bright with alcohol and unshed tears.

Scotty makes that face he gets when he's unsure and he resembles a teenaged boy. "I guess we just keep searchin' 'til we find the lad," he says. He tilts the tumbler in his hand towards his lips with a shrug and drinks.

Scotty always sees the bright side in every situation and there are times when he says something that is utterly profound.

It makes McCoy wish that he wasn't such a pessimist. 

* * *

He's back in Jim's quarters at the end of his shift with something he picked up from the mess hall and the warmth of alcohol burning in his blood.

McCoy could go back to his quarters and save himself from more irritation (and heartache, though he will never admit it) in the morning when he wakes up and Jim isn't there. He rationalizes that being in Jim's personal space is helping him keep his sanity in check and that someone needs to be there in case if Jim suddenly reappears in the middle of the night.

(Because he _would_ do that.)

Spock hears McCoy puttering around the head and pokes his head into Jim's quarters with a quizzical expression on his face when he sees the doctor. He says nothing which is very unlike him, and disappears back into his quarters without another word.

McCoy falls asleep wrapped up in sheets and blankets that smell of Jim, the scent wafting into his nostrils and lulling him to sleep.

He isn't surprised when he dreams of Jim, though it still stings.

They are everywhere and nowhere: McCoy's single back at the Academy, Jim's apartment in downtown San Francisco, the bar they frequent in North Beach that is almost as old as the city itself (and the most disgusting bathrooms McCoy has ever seen), that dim sum place in old Chinatown, McCoy's quarters on the Enterprise, his office in Sick Bay.

Their scenery changes intermittently and McCoy's subconscious cannot keep up, but one thing remains the same.

Jim is there and he's safe. His eyes are bright, his smile brighter.

McCoy can practically feel Jim's hand on his shoulder or his fist connecting with his bicep as Jim playfully punches him when McCoy steals his dim sum.

His laugh is so clear it's like Jim is in the room with him when the sound thrusts the doctor into consciousness, shouting Jim's name.

McCoy rolls to his side and props himself up on his elbow, breathing heavily as the twilight of his dreams fade. He gulps down oxygen and exhales unsteadily, realizing that he's alone.

There is nothing worse than being alone.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

One thing's for certain: McCoy has absolutely no fucking clue when he fell in love with James T. Kirk.

It was a gradual progress and happened as naturally as their friendship. One day it dawned on the doctor as if he forgot to get more milk. Perhaps it was a look or something Jim said, but when McCoy saw him, it was like he was seeing the kid for the first time.

His eyes were brighter (if that was even humanly possible), his laughter more contagious, that smile which usually prompted McCoy to roll his eyes made the doctor's knees weak.

McCoy being McCoy kept his feelings to himself, mostly for self-preservation.

The kid was not picky when it came to sexual partners and McCoy was pretty sure that his friend had at least made out with other men. The option of _actually_ making a move on him was plausible (and possibly welcomed), but McCoy didn't want to chance it.

He didn't want to ruin their friendship that meant more to him than anything in the universe. He didn't want to be vulnerable and he certainly didn't want to get hurt.

He didn't want to lose Jim.

The irony of the current situation did not fall unnoticed to the doctor. It's been a week since Jim's disappearance and no one has answers to explain a single thing.

Each day is getting harder because despite Spock not saying it, there is less of chance that they will find Jim as time goes on.

The crew is working around the clock on monitoring channels of communication, coming up with theories, and working with other Starfleet ships that offer their assistance.

Archer has officially named Spock the acting captain. "Until we find him," he tells Spock and McCoy over a video communique. The older man's face is like stone, but the doctor can see the pleading in his eyes.

So Spock takes command of the ship. He doesn't sit in the chair and opts to circle around it, keeping a safe distance from the sleek leather and metal like he's afraid if his rear end even touches it, Jim will walk in with a scowl on his face.

It surprises McCoy. He never expected this type of behavior from the half-Vulcan because he always thought that Spock was a smug son of a bitch. He observes the commander as he respects Jim, despite his absence.

Of course a lot of things should stop surprising the doctor and he rues his naivety at his age.

McCoy is sitting at a table by himself in the mess hall, his fork settled between his fingers and staring off into space.

Literally. He's seated at his (their) table under the viewport, watching as the stars glint back at him. They are keeping secrets from McCoy, twinkling like the blue of Jim's eyes and seemingly saying _we know where he is_.

McCoy knows that this is ridiculous and it's just his frustration ebbing at his psyche. He keeps himself occupied with work, meeting with Spock (or Scotty), and taking it upon himself to clean Jim's quarters.

It's an old habit of McCoy's. When he gets stressed out, he cleans and doesn't stop until the last tendrils of annoyance, irritation, or worry is tossed into the trash compactor along with the rest of the mess.

He scrubs the joint head (which Spock catches him doing and thankfully doesn't stop him or say a word), puts Jim's clothing, sheets, and towels into the fresher, tidies the kid's quarters until one could eat off of every surface inside of it.

McCoy reasons that _when_ Jim comes back, he will be too tired or busy to do any of this himself and that Jim would do the same for him. The latter is true and McCoy knows from personal experience that Jim - despite being a cyclone of mischief - is just as much of a neat freak as the doctor.

So he dusts, he straightens, he folds, and puts things away until McCoy is exhausted and passes out on the couch, his thoughts turning to Jim and his amusement when he sees what McCoy has done. When he wakes up, the pang of Jim's absence is more palpable than before.

As he loses himself in his thoughts, McCoy doesn't notice that Carol Marcus has sat down across from him until McCoy hears her unwrapping her silverware. He looks at her like he's coming out of a dream and she (bless her) flashes him a sympathetic smile.

"Carry on," she says sweetly. "I figured that even if you don't want to talk, the company would be welcomed."

McCoy nods. "How long have you been sitting here?" he asks, embarrassed.

"Not long," Carol assures him.

McCoy clears his throat uncomfortably as he watches Carol take a bite of her salad. "Sorry," he finally musters after a few minutes of gawking at her. He sees her golden brows furrow into a frown.

"Leonard," she says, "there is no need to apologize. I knew when I came over here that you probably were not in the mood to talk and to be honest, I like silence sometimes."

He smiles at this because Carol always knows how to put people at ease. It's one of her many gifts.

"Thanks," he tells her. He lets out a sigh. "I guess I haven't been myself lately."

Carol shrugs, her blonde bob swinging with the movement of her body. "I don't think anyone can blame you for that. I think this has thrown everyone."

He notices how Carol does not put an uncomfortable name to the situation, like so many others have done. She doesn't skirt around it either, though she treads as gently as she can.

"Yeah," he agrees, his voice sounding far away as he glances back out the viewport. McCoy has no idea how much times has passed, probably a few minutes at the most, when he feels Carol's hand on his. He looks up, catching her staring at him.

Carol tilts her head at him. "We'll find him, you know," she says with absolute certainty. "Jim Kirk is not easy to get rid of and you know that he'll come tearing in here like nothing happened."

McCoy nods mutely and sees the knowing expression on Carol's face as she smiles at him.

"Maybe you can tell him how you feel," she adds with a gentle squeeze of her hand against his own. Carol must see that McCoy is puzzled and trying to figure out how she knew. "You're fairly easy to read, doctor."

McCoy doesn't realize that his jaw has dropped open until he tries to from a sentence. "How?" he finally asks.

Carol retracts her and shrugs before she digs into her meal. "A lady never tells her secrets," she replies, coyly. She wrinkles her nose at him and motions to McCoy's untouched plate of food. "Eat. We can't have you collapsing in the hallways."

McCoy complies and eats, the food weighing him down like lead.

The next day Archer comms Spock to tell him that the _Endeavor_ will be rendezvousing with the _Enterprise_ to assist in the search and rescue efforts.

Spock makes the announcement from the bridge, his voice traveling all over the ship and into McCoy's office as he makes a valiant attempt to work.

It's not Archer's way of saying that Spock and his crew are doing an inadequate job of finding Jim - not in the least. It's a show of support from the aging admiral and the brass back at Starfleet; they want the captain found and will do anything in their power to ensure that happens.

McCoy sees Spock later that day when the half-Vulcan passes him in the hallway near the mess. He is with Uhura, walking shoulder to shoulder, and they are conversing in Vulcan. McCoy has no idea what they are saying and yearns for Jim to be next to him, translating their conversation into the shell of the doctor's ear - most of it nonsense and entirely pulled out of the kid's ass.

At least it would make him snort back a chuckle.

"Doctor," Spock greets, his voice like cool water. His hands are assuming their usual position - clasped together and passed at the small of his back.

Uhura gives him a warm smile and pulls him into a comforting hug. "How are you, Leonard?" she asks when they part. McCoy can see the tired lines on her face, as he knows that she has been working tirelessly just like everyone else.

McCoy shrugs in response and it seems to appease Uhura. "I was just getting something to bring back to my quarters," he half offers as a semblance of conversation.

"Nyota and I were about to partake in some dinner," Spock announces in his usual formal manner. "Would you like to join us?"

For some god forsaken reason, McCoy does and finds that Spock's company is almost enjoyable. He seems more at ease (and more human) with Uhura is around and those stoic Vulcan mannerisms dissipate.

McCoy watches as Spock almost smiles at something Uhura says and how he reaches across the table to caress her hand when the half-Vulcan thinks that the doctor does not notice. It's strange to watch them - strange but comforting.

He rationalizes it's because he doesn't want to be alone instead of admitting that the hobgoblin's company is welcomed.

They don't talk about Jim's disappearance, but rather trade stories of his antics.

It's easier this way after all.

* * *

It's been five days since the _Endeavour_ arrived and almost two weeks since Jim's disappearance. The crew of the other starship is more than happy and willing to assist. They do so by working around the clock with the _Enterprise_ crew and are frequently in communication as the two starships hover side by side in the black.

There is a steady stream of crew members beaming to and from each ship, rushing to work stations, various departments, and closed door meetings. As McCoy walks the hallways, there is a sea of new faces commingling with familiar ones, all of them with their noses to their PADD screens and talking in hushed tones.

He is not immune to this, as the _Endeavour_'s CMO, Doctor Gemma Franz, has offered her assistance in researching the sudden disruption of Jim's life signs monitor.

She is a lithe woman with an equally lithe Eastern European accent and a shock of white blonde hair. She is a decade older than he and treats McCoy with both respect and sympathy when they first meet in the transporter room.

McCoy finds himself conversing with the doctor on board the _Endeavour_ over the sudden drop in Jim's life signs monitor. It baffles everyone in the room, especially Scotty who is present for this meeting.

The three of them are in McCoy's office, studying their PADDS so much that it would make their Starfleet instructors proud. There are half eaten sandwiches and thermos of cold coffee on various surfaces (which one of the nurses brought them).

"I feel like I've stepped into the _Twilight Zone_," Dr. Franz finally pips up, glancing at Scotty and McCoy over the rim of her glasses.

McCoy pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. "You and me both." When he opens his eyes, the doctor is giving him a sympathetic smile. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize, Doctor McCoy," she tells him before turning to Scotty. "You mentioned the possibility of someone tampering with the device, rendering the feed useless."

Scotty nods. "Aye, except I cannae find any materials supportin' that. It seems this has never happened before," he explains as he passes his PADD to Dr. Franz. "I contacted the manufacturer in Tokyo and spoke with their head engineer for hours. The device never goes out of range - which was my original theory - and the only plausible explanation is fairly farfetched."

"We're in deep space, Mister Scott," Dr. Franz says with a bit of humor in her voice. "Everything is farfetched out here."

Scotty grins stupidly. "Ah lassie, yeh have no idea how right yeh are," he exclaims, much to Doctor Franz's amusement. "Mister Fumi's theory was that someone tampered with the device by delivering a shock to where it's implanted," Scotty explains as he points to the back of his neck. "Cudda been done with a phaser set to stun, perhaps a taser…somethin' to overload the device so that the signal on our end drops out."

"That could explain why his monitor sudden stopped," McCoy reasons.

Dr. Franz nods at this as she takes off her glasses. "Plausible," she says, unsure. "But you would assume that the captain's vitals would spike from the shock. I saw the loop that Doctor McCoy sent over to me when the _Endeavour_ arrived and the captain was calm."

"Perhaps he was taken by surprise?" Scotty offers.

Both McCoy and Dr. Franz shake their heads. "Doctor Franz is right: Jim's vitals would have spiked from being shocked."

"Unless he was too preoccupied," Scotty tells them.

McCoy leans back in his chair. "Jim can have tunnel vision," he admits. He can recall every single time he's had to tear Jim away from something because he was on the verge of becoming obsessive.

"Mister Scott, did the engineer say if a certain voltage could render the device useless immediately so that it wouldn't register additional vitals?" she asks. "If the assailant knew exactly where to shock the captain, it could immediately render the device inoperable, could it not?"

Scotty thinks about this for a few minutes, jutting out his lower lip and furrowing his brow as he mulls over the doctor's theory. "I'll need to think that over," Scotty finally tells Dr. Franz. "It's entirely plausible, but I need to look over the specs that Mister Fumi sent over."

They adjourn no closer to figure out this mess than they were before.

Frustrated, McCoy replicates dinner in Jim's quarters and hides from the rest of the crew. As he's sitting down at Jim's desk with the hot plate of food, the chime to the door rings.

McCoy answers, trying to contain his emotions, and is surprised that it's Dr. Franz on the other side. When the door slides open, she gives him a sad smile.

"I know what it's like," she says after McCoy invites her in. "To have a loved one go missing."

McCoy doesn't say anything because it's the hundredth time someone has told him this. He hates hearing it and wants to scream when someone, who has the best intentions, says that.

Each time he hears it, McCoy feels like someone is picking at the wound, peeling off the stab and reopening the barely healed flesh.

Except he knows until they find Jim or discover his fate, the wound will never heal. Not really.

"My first husband went missing about twenty years ago," she explains in a soft, melodious voice. "He was on a terrain mission with three other crew members when we lost contact with the landing party. A few days later, the captain sent down a search and recovery team…"

McCoy nods. "What did they find?"

"Nothing," Dr. Franz sighs, her gaze trailing off towards a shelf of honest to god paperback books. She moves towards it and kneels down, running her fingers along the worn and battered books with a smile. "I never found out what happened to him. It took many years for me to make peace with it and luckily my second husband is a patient man."

McCoy can't help himself and is almost appalled he spits, "How the hell is this story supposed to make me feel better?"

Dr. Franz tilts her head as she looks at him, a small smile touching her lips as she rises to her feet. "It's not," she admits. "I've never met Captain Kirk, but I know of his reputation. That boy was born into dire circumstances and has repeatedly come back and proved everyone wrong."

"Oh," McCoy says dumbly as he realizes what she is saying. "My apologies."

Dr. Franz waves a dismissive hand. "You are under a lot of stress," she replies.

"It's no excuse," McCoy counters in a whisper. He clears his throat and looks up at her with hollow eyes, devoid of the mask he wears during the day. "And I am sorry. You and your crew have been incredibly helpful with assisting us."

Dr. Franz shrugs her shoulders. "Starfleet is one large, dysfunctional family. We help our own."

Eventually she leaves and McCoy's appetite is gone. He dumps the food in the trash compactor and leaves Jim's quarters to sleep in his own - for once.

The day has been exhausting - both emotionally and mentally - and McCoy's surprised that he musters up the energy to take a quick sonic shower, much less pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before face planting in his bed.

As his eyes drift shut, McCoy sees the screen of his PADD illuminating his darkened bedroom and thinks to himself, _I should probably turn that over_, before sleep lulls him into darkness.

* * *

It feels like minutes have passed when the chirping of his PADD wakes him. McCoy grumbles as he rolls over and grabs the offending device, catching that it's currently four in the morning on his chronometer.

"Damn piece of…" McCoy begins to curse when he notices a report blinking at him and the doctor swears that his heart stops.

It's Jim's life signs monitor. McCoy touches the screen and brings it up, letting out a gasp when he seems the lines that were once dead and flat, flaring back to life.

He blinks, his mouth going to dry as he stares at the screen. _It's impossible_, McCoy thinks to himself in a half-awake state. He continues to stare, watching as the lines ebb and flow. "Blood pressure ninety over sixty, pulse sixty-three, temperature is ninety-seven point eight…" he mutters to himself.

He leaps out of bed, the PADD in hand, and runs out of his quarters towards Spock's, his heart pounding wildly in time with his bare feet.

As he turns a corner, he nearly collides with Spock. They stare at each other, both of them out of uniform and disheveled, vulnerable even. McCoy opens his mouth and finds that words are failing him. He swallows and holds up his PADD with a trembling hand. "His vitals just went back online," he says hoarsely.

"The _Carpathia_ just contacted our Gamma shift communications officer to inform us that they have found the Beta shuttle," Spock says, his voice raw with emotion. "We are needed on the bridge."

No one needs to tell McCoy twice as he takes off towards the bridge with Spock right behind him.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

They waste no time rushing to the bridge, neither one of them caring about the odd looks they receive as Spock and McCoy burst onto the bridge.

"Commander," says the communications officer as he turns around in his seat, "Captain Sutherland is on the line."

Spock nods. "On screen," he orders without hesitation.

McCoy watches as the half-Vulcan makes himself look dignified despite his current appearance as Captain Sutherland appears on the view screen.

"Commander Spock," Sutherland greets, his voice tight.

Spock inclines his head. "Captain Sutherland," he says. "I would like to extend my gratitude on behalf of the _Enterprise_ and her crew in locating Captain Kirk."

Sutherland looks uncomfortable as he presses his lips together, which disappear under his blonde mustache.

_Oh god_, McCoy thinks to himself. _Please no. Please kid, don't be dead._

"What is it, captain?" Spock inquires, reading Sutherland's discomfort like a book. "What is Ji- Captain Kirk's status?"

Sutherland clears his throat. "He is alive and is currently in our Med Bay. I have yet to go down to see him, as I wanted to notify you as soon as we towed the shuttle on board."

"I do not understand," Spock says. "Why did the _Carpathia_ have to assist in relocating the shuttle?"

Sutherland straightens his posture. "Commander, I believe that it would be best if we discuss this in a more private setting," he urges.

McCoy glances at Spock, whose dark eyes were on him. "Spock," he whispers, half-begging.

"Officer Marlow, please forward the video comm to the captain's ready room. Please notify Admiral Archer of the current situation and tell him that I will be in contact with him within the hour," Spock orders, his eyes still on McCoy. "Doctor McCoy, if you will follow me."

They hurry into the ready room, where Sutherland is already on screen and waiting patiently. He waits until McCoy and Spock are seated before speaking.

"What happened?" McCoy blurts out as soon as his ass touches the seat.

Sutherland gives McCoy a curious look, which Spock notices.

"Captain, this is Doctor Leonard McCoy, the _Enterprise_'s Chief Medical Officer," Spock states. "I believe that it is necessary that he is present for this conversation as he has the most insight into Captain Kirk's medical history."

Sutherland nods. "Very well," he says. "At three-fifteen this morning, our Gamma shift helmsman noticed a Starfleet shuttle off the port bow. She and our communications officer made multiple attempts to contact the shuttle before notifying me. During a routine scan, we picked up signs of a single life form on board. We also scanned the systems of the shuttle. It seems that the main engine lost power about six hours ago and was running on reserves. I made the decision to tow the shuttle in."

McCoy looks down at the PADD in his hand and goes to the monitor, searching to see when it went back online. "The time matches up," he tells Spock in a low voice.

Spock raises a brow. "What about the captain?" he asks Sutherland.

"Our CMO, Doctor Ta'al, is stabilizing him as we speak," Sutherland tells them. "My commander was there when they opened the shuttle and conveyed that Captain Kirk was…in a bad state."

McCoy swallows down the sick feeling that is rising to his throat. "How bad, captain?"

"At this time, I do not know," Sutherland admits. "I will have Dr. Ta'al contact you as soon as she is able to update you on Captain Kirk's status."

McCoy feels his cheeks burning and a sharp retort on his tongue when he hears Spock defuse the tense situation.

"Captain," he says mildly, "what are your current coordinates?"

Sutherland gives McCoy a look before turning back to Spock. "We are currently orbiting Belta," he answers. "I am having my helmsman set a course for your location, per Admiral Archer's comm from last week."

"What is your estimated time of travel?" Spock inquires.

"About thirteen hours," Sutherland replies.

Spock raises a brow. "Captain, it would be more logical if the _Enterprise_ comes to you, as we have higher warp capabilities."

"I will have my helmsman forward our coordinates right now," Sutherland replies as he looks down at what McCoy presumes is his PADD and begins typing on the screen.

Spock nods. "Thank you. If your schedule permits, I would like you to join myself and Admiral Archer on a conference comm to debrief him."

"Of course," Sutherland agrees. His expression softens. "Commander, I must say that I am relieved that we were able to assist you and your crew in some way. It goes without saying that I am glad that we found Captain Kirk alive."

McCoy watches as Spock's composure momentarily falters as the reality of the situation sets in. Spock gives him a weak smile. "We are grateful, captain," he replies in a soft, very un-Vulcan tone before clearing his throat. "We will speak shortly."

"Yes, Commander," Sutherland says. "Doctor McCoy."

The screen goes to the Starfleet insignia and Spock is already out of his seat, heading for the bridge. He turns towards McCoy when he stands in front of the door, looking lost. "I am going to make a ship wide announcement before going into a meeting with Admiral Archer and Captain Sutherland," he announces. "Will you be in your quarters or in Sick Bay so the communications officer knows where to direct Dr. Ta'al's call?"

"I'll be in Sick Bay," McCoy says automatically, the sick feeling returning. Something about the lack of information on Jim's current state does not sit right with him.

It's not Captain Sutherland's fault as the doctor knows that he made the right call by notifying the _Enterprise_ as soon as possible. The captaincy is filled with bureaucratic bullshit and protocol, as Jim has complained about in the past - so this is no different.

Spock nods. "Very well," he says. For a moment, it seems that he is about to leave. "It would be appreciated if you update me on Jim's status once you speak to Dr. Ta'al."

McCoy nods. "Of course," he says roughly.

They separate, Spock going towards the bridge and McCoy heading to his quarters to change into his uniform and go down to Sick Bay to prepare for Jim's arrival. When he comes off the turbolift, he hears Spock's voice over the intercom on the ship.

"This is Acting Captain Spock. At precisely four in this morning, Earth Standard Time, the captain of the _USS Carpathia_ informed us that they have recovered the Beta shuttle and Captain Kirk, alive," Spock says in a neutral tone. "We are setting a course for the planet Belta, where the _Carpathia_ is currently in orbit, and will arrive there in approximately seven hours. As your captain, I would like to express my gratitude for your diligence and professionalism during the past two weeks. You are to be commended. This Spock signing off."

McCoy realizes that he has stopped walking and is standing in the middle of the hallway, listening to the half-Vulcan's voice. Other crew members have come out into the hallways - some in their sleeping clothes, others in uniform - looking bewildered at the news.

In the distance, McCoy can see Scotty looking at him, silently asking (or is it pleading) if this is all a dream. McCoy nods his head in a daze before turning down the hallway towards his quarters.

He goes through the motions of his morning routine in a fog and heads down to Sick Bay as quickly as possible, where his staff (god bless) are eagerly awaiting him.

"Has Dr. Ta'al contacted me?" McCoy asks no one in particular. They all shake their head and he's not surprised. It hasn't been long since the conversation with Captain Sutherland.

Geoffrey M'Benga steps forward, his face etched in concern. "What do you need us to do, Len?" He is asking this as a friend and a colleague and McCoy knows it.

McCoy thinks about this for a long moment before saying in a voice filled with gravel, "Could you start prepping BioBed 3? Make sure that the privacy curtain is in place and that only medical or senior staff is allowed in the area. Have bags of his blood type ready to be used, as well as saline. I'll find out what else we'll need from Dr. Ta'al." McCoy pinches the bridge of his nose and winces. "And have the surgical staff on standby as soon as we are two hours from Belta. Hopefully we'll know more sooner than later."

The staff spreads out, rushing to follow his orders. M'Benga remains, eyeing his friend and crossing his arms over his chest. McCoy motions the doctor to follow him into his office where he shuts the door.

"How bad is it?" asks M'Benga.

McCoy shrugs. "Captain Sutherland didn't really say. He said that his commander conveyed that Jim was in a _bad state_ - whatever the hell that means. His life signs monitor kicked back on and his stats are down."

"Let me see," M'Benga says.

McCoy hands him the PADD on his desk and brings up the monitor with a flick of his fingertip. "This is from an hour ago. His stats are rising from medical treatment, but they are still too low for my comfort." He watches M'Benga study the information in front of him. "Jim's weak and his vitals are consistent with being on an out of commission shuttle with no supplies for some time. Maybe two to three days, four tops."

"Perhaps there is blood loss?" M'Benga inquires as he keeps his eyes on the PADD. McCoy nods in agreement. "And dehydration," he adds as M'Benga hands the PADD back to him. He cards a hand through his hair and lets out a heavy sigh. "This is a colossal clusterfuck," he laments as his comm begins to beep. "McCoy."

"I have Dr. Ta'al from the _USS Carpathia_ waiting to be patched through," says the voice of the Gamma shift communications officer.

McCoy feels his stomach jolt. "Patch her through to my viewscreen," he orders, sharing a wary look with M'Benga.

"Do you want me to stay?" the other doctor asks.

McCoy nods immediately. He's the CMO, but he's also human. And he's scared out of his goddamn mind.

The viewscreen in his office lights ups and suddenly he is greeted by a woman with dark features and olive colored skin. She has the same tired expression he does when he's just finished up a serious case.

It makes him sympathize with her yet guts him at the same time.

"Dr. McCoy," she says with a hint of an accent. "Dr. Marina Ta'al." Her dark eyes are on M'Benga before shifting back to McCoy.

McCoy nods. "This is Dr. Geoffrey M'Benga, my second in command," he says, quickly making the introduction.

"Dr. M'Benga," Dr. Ta'al echoes. She lets out a heavy sigh as a strain of curly black hair falls against the side of her face. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

It's a knee jerk reaction when McCoy asks, "How is he?"

Dr. Ta'al, who was about to speak, looks at McCoy, her dark eyes kind and gives him a comforting smile. "He is stable and resting," she assures him. "When Captain Kirk was recovered, he was dehydrated so we started him on a saline drip - the old fashion way. I am going to start him on another drip in keep him on the intravenous fluids, slow and steady. There is a deep puncture wound on his left thigh. Someone treated it with a field dressing, but because it was left untreated for over thirty-six hours, an infection has set in."

"How bad is it?" M'Benga asks.

"It's non-life threatening. I irrigated the wound and changed the dressing as we started the captain on antibiotics," Dr. Ta'al replies in a similar tone that McCoy used when he worked in a terran hospital - that professional, clinical tone filled with sympathy.

McCoy presses his thumb to his lips, chewing on the fingernail. "Fever?"

"It was at thirty-eight point three when we brought him on board, but it's starting to respond to the medication. Before I came into my office to contact you, it dropped a degree. We will monitor its progression and will make adjustments to his antibiotics if the need should arise," she explains. "There is facial bruising, but we are using a regen unit to clear that up. Scans showed fractured metacarpals on both hands and his eleventh and twelfth ribs are broken. An osteoblast has been applied to mend his ribs and his left metacarpal, but there is an abnormal tetany of his right hand."

McCoy raises a brow and shoots M'Benga a worried glance.

"It's probably an effect of the electrolyte imbalance, but the captain's hand is locked in a fist," Dr. Ta'al continues on as she reaches for a glass of water. She sips it before speaking again. "Due to the injury on that extremity, I felt that it would be better suited for you as his primary physician to determine its origin. We also performed the standard neurological tests once he was stabilized and Captain Kirk has brainwave function. His pupils are equally round and responsive to light. And the captain's reflexes are still intact - a good sign."

McCoy wants to let out a sigh of relief, but it's nearly impossible.

_He could have been dead, you idiot_, McCoy silently reminds himself as he lets the doctor's words sink him. He knows in his marrow that things could have been so much worse and that he should thank his lucky stars that Jim is mostly in one piece. "We have a feed of his life signs," McCoy finally says as he reaches for his PADD, "and I saw that his oxygen levels were low."

"Yes," she says. "His respirations are on the low end of normal - possibly depressed by the infection process and dehydration. He's currently on a mask, but I'll probably switch it to a nasal cannula in a few hours, pending no complications."

McCoy and M'Benga look at each other, both men processing the information amidst the shock and relief of Jim being found. His condition wasn't ideal, but Dr. Ta'al seemed more than capable of handling it - for which McCoy was eternally grateful.

"Captain Sutherland mentioned that when the shuttle was opened that the commander said that Jim was in a bad state," McCoy asks. "Could you elaborate?"

Dr. Ta'al looks uncomfortable and takes several moments to think of a response. "Captain Kirk was conscious when he was recovered, but unresponsive."

"Unresponsive how?" M'Benga interjects, looking worried.

Dr. Ta'al sighs. "He was nonverbal," she elaborates, choosing her words carefully. "I am sure that his ordeal was mentally and emotionally taxing. I recommend that he speaks with your ship's counselors before returning to active duty to ensure that he is not suffering from post-traumatic stress."

"He was nonverbal?" McCoy asks, surprised. "That doesn't sound like him. He's the most talkative son of a bitch I've ever met; can't get the damn kid to shut up!"

Dr. Ta'al chuckles at this. "He is also suffering from acute exhaustion, Dr. McCoy. As soon as we transferred him from the anti-grav gurney to the BioBed, he was out like a light."

"Can you forward his chart?" McCoy knows that she will, but it doesn't hurt to use professional courtesies.

Dr. Ta'al nods. "Of course," she says. "I'm finishing the preliminary report right now and either myself or my head nurse will send you hourly updates on his condition."

"Thanks doctor," McCoy says - truly meaning it. "We appreciate everything you've done for him."

She smiles at this. "I have no doubt that you and Dr. M'Benga would do the same for one of our own."

After the exchange of pleasantries between Dr. Ta'al and M'Benga, as McCoy mulls over the situation in silence, the comm ends and reality truly sets in. They review Dr. Ta'al's report and make additions to Jim's treatment plan for when he is transferred back onto the _Enterprise_.

M'Benga goes to inform the staff while McCoy comms Spock to bring him in the loop.

The half-Vulcan takes the news as well as someone of Vulcan ancestry can. When McCoy is done explaining Jim's injuries, he waits for Spock to say something.

The man on the other end is quiet and it's too unnerving for McCoy not to say something. "Once he's home, he will make a full recovery," McCoy assures him.

"I know," Spock says. "I will inform Admiral Archer of his condition."

The comm ends as an update to Jim's medical file on board the _Carpathia_ comes through. McCoy leafs through it and finds himself looking at information that absolutely renders him speechless.

He hastily asks the communications officer to patch him back through to Dr. Ta'al. It takes a good ten minutes because not everyone is Uhura, who performs miracles with her fingertips.

"What lacerations?" he barks instead of doing the polite thing and saying hello as soon as Dr. Ta'al appears on screen. His breathing is rapid and his heart is pounding wildly.

Dr. Ta'al is flipping through her PADD and nods. "There are faded marks from lacerations on his stomach, back, buttocks, and thighs," she explains. "It looks like most of them were treated with a regen unit, but after a deep tissue scan, we were able to see the remaining damage more clearly."

"Remaining damage?" McCoy practically yells.

Dr. Ta'al is calm because one of them should be and it's certainly not McCoy. "I am not going to beat around the bush, Dr. McCoy. I believe that Captain Kirk was beaten at some point during his disappearance, possibly tortured. The healed lacerations are consistent with a whip of some sort and with multiple lashes."

"Jesus," McCoy breathes in disbelief and anger.

"They healed clean, thanks to someone with medical training. I think once the worst of the captain's injuries have healed, you could give a few regen treatments to the remaining scars," Dr. Ta'al assures him.

McCoy swallows back a retort and moves to the other piece of information that bothers him. "You have his weight listed at seventy-nine point three kilos," McCoy grunts.

"Yes, that is the weight that the BioBed registered during his intake."

McCoy arches a brow. "That is a good ten kilos under his normal weight!" He bites his lip and buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. "Goddammit Jim! What the hell happened out there?"

"Do you need a moment?" Dr. Ta'al asks patiently.

McCoy shakes his head. "No," he says through his hands before lifting his head. "No. Thank you for the clarification, doctor."

"I will let you know if I find anything else or if his condition changes," she offers.

It's a nice offer, but he knows that there isn't much that will change in regards to his vitals. As he disconnects the communique with a goodbye, McCoy feels sick with worry. 

* * *

When they are thirty minutes out, Spock comes down to Sick Bay to confer with McCoy on how to handle Jim's transfer on board the ship.

It's the first time that McCoy seen him since the early morning hours. Spock has been stuck in meetings with the admiralty (according to Scotty who came to see McCoy and bring him a sandwich from the mess) when he isn't conversing with Captain Sutherland.

Now that Spock is now standing right in front of him, he can see the tired lines around those impossibly dark eyes.

"I believe given the circumstances," Spock says as he stands ramrod straight in McCoy's office despite being bone weary, "that a medical shuttle would be more appropriate than having Jim beamed on board."

McCoy nods in agreement (and also because he hates being reduced to atoms). "That works," he replies in a tired voice.

"What is the captain's current status?" Spock inquires.

"He is still unconscious, but resting comfortably," McCoy says automatically. "I would like to request that we clear the hallways when Jim is transferred to Sick Bay."

Spock arches his brow. "I agree," he tells McCoy. "It would be wise to afford the Captain some privacy while he is unable to request it himself."

"So it's settled," McCoy replies as he rubs the exhaustion from his eyes.

Spock nods. "Indeed." A moment passes before the commander speaks again. "There is a ninety-four point six percent chance that I will be preoccupied with paperwork and other Starfleet protocols while Jim is being transferred back."

"And?" McCoy asks in a biting tone. He's too tired for Spock's calculations and wonders why the damn hobgoblin can't speak like a normal person.

Spock raises his damn brow again. "In the likelihood of this happening, I would like you to convey to Jim that I am pleased that he has returned and that I will come down to Sick Bay to see him as soon as I am able."

McCoy can only nod his head in fear of cursing at the half-Vulcan for being unpredictable (and for admitting that he is truly touched by what Spock has said).

Time seems to rush by and soon, McCoy finds himself being escorted by Captain Sutherland's yeoman to the _Carpathia_'s Sick Bay.

Spock, of course, has been whisked off to meet with Captain Sutherland and will probably be ensconced there long after McCoy has gone back to the _Enterprise_.

With each footstep, McCoy can feel his nerves forming a lump in his throat. His palms are sweating and the collar of his uniform is suddenly too tight.

Outside the Sick Bay is Dr. Ta'al. She is tall woman and gives McCoy a warm smile upon his approach. Her handshake is steady and firm. "It is nice to meet you in the flesh," she says as she guides him into Sick Bay, "despite the unpleasant circumstances."

He nods in agreement, half listening as McCoy cranes his head to look for Jim. The space is fairly empty with the exception of Dr. Ta'al's staff who are busying themselves with various tasks.

Dr. Ta'al must notice McCoy's lack of attention. "He's this way," she says kindly, gesturing towards the far end of the _Carpathia_'s Sick Bay.

It feels like the other side of the universe as McCoy follows the doctor, his heart pounding against his ribs with each step. He's seen the charts and studied the data, but it's just words and numbers. It's not Jim – not really. It's not him in the flesh and brings no comfort to McCoy.

Not until he lays eyes on the kid. It will be real then.

"How are his vitals?" McCoy finally manages to ask.

She nods. "They are holding steady. His fever went down two more degrees and leveled out about two hours ago. It's still not where I'd like it, but it will suffice given the short amount of him he's received treatment," she explains as they walk.

"Is he still…" McCoy asks, his voice trailing off as they come up to a privacy curtain, blocking the perimeter around a BioBed that beeps steadily with a person's vitals - Jim's vitals.

A faint outline of a body – _Jim's body_ – can be seen through the material of the curtain, illuminated by the screens of the medical equipment. It's something and nothing at the same time.

"He's still unconscious," Dr. Ta'al informs him. "He's almost ready for another bag of saline, which we can hang before his transfer, and my nurse administered a hypo with a low dose of morphine an hour ago to keep him comfortable."

She must see how wound up McCoy is because she places a hand on his shoulder. "Go on," she urges. There's pity in her voice. "I need to speak with my staff about some last minute details before we prepare to transfer him back to the _Enterprise_."

McCoy nods numbly as he takes a tentative step forward. Panic rises in his throat. He's ready for this - hell, he's been ready for this since Captain Sutherland's comm, but seeing Jim will also make the horror of his disappearance real. He swallows nervously and feels his eyes widening.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Ta'al asks. When McCoy turns his head, she is holding her PADD to her chest and has a concerned expression on her face.

"Just nervous," McCoy reluctantly admits, keeping his voice low.

Dr. Ta'al nods in understanding. "I'll give you both some privacy," she tells him with a small, knowing smile on her lips. "If you need anything, just hit the call button and either myself or one of the nurses will be right over."

She leaves before McCoy can acknowledge her.

He finds himself standing several footsteps away from the privacy curtain. "Dammit kid," he mutters under his breath as he forces himself to move because Jim is waiting for him and has been for the last seven hours.

McCoy turns the corner and is greeted by the uncomfortable sight of Jim laying on the BioBed beneath two layers of thick blankets.

Now usually when Jim is injured from whatever misadventure he's just come back from, even if he's unconscious, he's usually up within an hour and a constant stream of chatter and motion. He ducks from hyposprays, flirts with every nurse in Sick Bay (flashing that devious grin, the bastard), and whines when McCoy orders him to lay the fuck back down ("Boooonnnnnesss! I'm _fine_!"). Even when the kid can barely keep his eyes open, he is defiant and a brat until the very end.

The still figure on the BioBed brings him back to when Jim's body was brought into Sick Bay, cold and lifeless. As the nurse unzipped the body bag, McCoy was sure that his heart would truly break as soon as he saw Jim's face, serene in death.

But they got lucky in the end. Hell – Jim's luck still hasn't run out and if McCoy has any say, it never will.

Jim's face is tilted away from McCoy, exposing the familiar curve of a strong jaw. The plastic tubing of the nasal cannula is draped over Jim's ear, traveling down the arc of his face and disappearing up the kid's nostrils. As McCoy draws closer, he can hear the rasping breaths passing through Jim's parted lips.

The half empty bag of saline hangs over the bed, connected to Jim's arm via an IV line that disappears under the blankets.

There have been many advances in medical technology, but sometimes the old fashioned way is the best when treating certain ailments.

He can see the fading bruising that blemishes Jim's fair skin and it instantly makes his blood boil. McCoy presses his lips together as he steps closer, trying not to focus on Jim's injuries, but the fact that he's here and he's alive. McCoy takes note of the steady rise and fall of the captain's body as he walks to the foot of the BioBed.

The doctor watches as Jim's dark lashes break over too sharp cheekbones as he sleeps. He's all pale and abraded skin, bruised under eyes, and chapped lips - so insignificant and small.

McCoy swallows back the lump forming in his throat as he reaches for Jim's leg. He touches the blanket covered limb and gives it a gentle squeeze to assure Jim that someone is there with him.

Or maybe it's for McCoy's benefit – to see that he's not dreaming and that Jim is really here.

Jim is warm and solid under McCoy's touch. He's real and the knot of apprehension passes through the doctor on a shaky exhale.

McCoy sits down on the stool next to Jim's beside and eases the younger man's wrist out from under the blankets, feeling the thrum of a pulse under his fingertips. He glances at the screen with his vitals, watching the numbers and lines flux with each passing second.

The neurological monitor tells McCoy what he already knows – Jim is far into the comforting oblivion of sleep and hardly aware of his surroundings. Despite this, McCoy decides that a familiar voice couldn't hurt.

"Jim," he whispers his friend's name like a prayer. McCoy brings a hand to stroke Jim's hair, longer than he last remembers, and waits for the kid's reaction.

Jim, one who isn't a fan of unwanted physical contact, doesn't even flinch. He is still under McCoy's ministrations, lost somewhere in dreams (or so McCoy hopes they are).

"It's me," McCoy says a bit louder this time. "It's Bones." He fingers the strands of light brown hair with his fingertips, damp from sweat, and feels the sting of tears in his eyes. His lower lip trembles as his hold on his emotion waivers. He bites back the sob that threatens to escape as he laces his fingers between Jim's, gently squeezing the kid's limp hand.

McCoy rests his head next to Jim's, feeling the younger man's stubble covered chin against his forehead. He closes his eyes, allowing tears to escape as Jim's breath puffs against his hair. "You're safe now," he whispers, not caring if Jim can hear him or not.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

How long Dr. Ta'al leaves them McCoy cannot stay. The bag of saline that looms over the BioBed is almost empty when she arrives with a nurse in tow.

McCoy is sitting upright with a firm hold on Jim's hand as he watches the younger man sleep when the doctor clears her throat. He glances up at her owlishly and confused before he remembers where he is.

"My nurse is going to change the bag," Dr. Ta'al announces in that same, gentle voice. She is holding a PADD against her chest, which she holds out to him. "If you could sign the transfer of care, we can start prepping the captain for transport."

McCoy nods mutely as he lets go of Jim's hand to stand up. He takes the PADD from the doctor, giving her a nod of thanks before he starts to read over the documents on the screen. McCoy is vaguely aware of the nurse silently working on changing out the saline bag and the low murmur of Dr. Ta'al's voice.

Everything seems to be in order and McCoy is grateful that this other doctor is meticulous with her records. "Could you forward a copy of this to my PADD?" he asks when he is done signing the forms and hands back the PADD.

"Of course," Dr. Ta'al says as she glances down at the PADD. "Everything is in order. Nurse Santi, could you notify the team that we will need the anti-grav gurney and attachments for the saline. I also want another round of antibiotics administered before he leaves the ship."

The nurse bobs her head. "Do you want to keep him on the cannula or should I grab an oxygen mask?"

McCoy watches Dr. Ta'al ponder this before she says, "An oxygen mask would be easier for transport. Also, I want a thermal blanket added. Shuttles tend to get cold, even if the trip is short."

"Yes doctor," Nurse Santi says before turning to leave, carrying the saline bag in her hand. She gives McCoy a small smile as she passes, which he is slow to return.

McCoy hears a rustle by Jim's bed. Dr. Ta'al is standing over her patient, checking his vitals with a tricorder and glancing up at the screen next to the BioBed every so often. "How does everything look?" McCoy asks.

"As good as it can be, given the situation," she replies, her attention fully focused on Jim. "I'll send you my orders for his care along with his medical file, but it's fairly straight forward."

McCoy nods. "Fluids, antibiotics, rest," he answers.

"Precisely," Dr. Ta'al tells him. She glances up at him, her dark eyes brighter under the lights of Sick Bay, and gives him a reassuring smile. "I have no doubts that Captain Kirk will be in capable hands."

McCoy returns the smile as several of the _Carpathia_'s medical staff join them. He watches in silence as they prep Jim for the shuttle; administering various hypos, attaching the saline drip to an IV pole that is connected to the anti-grav gurney.

When a nurse pulls back the blankets, McCoy sees the edges of the dressing that cover the puncture wound on Jim's thigh and his sock covered feet.

His eyes travel up, noticing how Jim's right hand is closed in a fist. The knuckles are covered in a sterile dressing, though McCoy can see the swelling that extends to the tips of Jim's fingers, discoloring his skin.

"Is this the abnormality you mentioned during our call?" McCoy asks.

Dr. Ta'al peers down, one of her brows arched. "Ah yes," she says. "That would be it."

McCoy tilts his head and reaches down to turn Jim's closed fist over, studying the extremity with a critical eye. He lifts Jim's arm, bringing his hand towards him for closer inspection. "Did someone try to extend his fingers?" McCoy asks.

"When we attempted to place a regen unit over his knuckles," Dr. Ta'al answers as she gently eases the nasal cannula from Jim's face and replaces it with the oxygen mask. "He wouldn't budge and we decided to leave it for the time being."

McCoy frowns as he continues to poke and prod his friend with a gentle touch. "How did his electrolytes look during the last panel?"

"They're up," Dr. Ta'al tells him as she leans over Jim's body and studies the younger man's closed fist. "I'm not exactly pleased with the levels, but it's an improvement." She must see the concerned look on McCoy's face. "What are you thinking?"

McCoy glances at her and shrugs. "It could be anything," he sighs as he lays Jim's arm on the mattress of the BioBed. "I'll rerun his panels when we get back to the ship and see what the results are before looking into other causes."

"Very well," Dr. Ta'al replies as a nurse scoots between the doctor and McCoy. The nurse places a hypo in Dr. Ta'al's hand and quietly murmurs in the doctor's ear.

"We can be down there in ten minutes," Dr. Ta'al affirms as she readies the hypo, placing it at the juncture of Jim's neck and shoulder. She pulls the trigger, which hisses, and empties the contents into Jim's body. "Let's get him loaded onto the gurney."

"Do you need any help?" McCoy asks, feeling out of place in the Sick Bay.

Dr. Ta'al smiles at him and shakes her head, silently thanking him for his offer, before turning to Nurse Santi. "Could you notify Yeoman Baz to clear the hallways?" she asks as the gurney is brought next to the BioBed.

The nurse disappears behind the privacy curtain, her hurried footsteps echoing in her wake. The sound dies, replaced by Dr. Ta'al's voice as she counts. McCoy turns back and sees the doctor and her nurses lifting Jim to the gurney, his body limp and boneless in their hands.

As Jim's backside touches the gurney, McCoy notices that his friend doesn't even make a sound, save for his breath against the plastic of the oxygen mask. His head lolls to the side, brushing against the fabric of the pillow, as the medical team arranges him to a more comfortable position on the gurney. Blankets are pulled up to Jim's collarbones, cocooning him in warmth, followed by the thermal blanket that self-activates as soon as it touches the younger man's body.

"The hallways are cleared," Nurse Santi says breathlessly as she reappears at McCoy's side.

Dr. Ta'al is running a tricorder over Jim, scrutinizing the results with a careful eye. "Thank you," she tells the nurse, her eyes not leaving the device in her hands. "Everything looks good. Did Yeoman Baz notify the shuttle that they will be departing soon?"

"Yes doctor," the nurse says. "The shuttle pilot is speaking with the _Enterprise_ and will be ready to depart as soon as we arrive."

Their voices drop as Dr. Ta'al hands the tricorder to one of the nurses as Nurse Santi places a clear bag at the foot of the gurney.

The sealed bag is filled with what looks to be clothing and a pair of boots, darkly stained in what McCoy believes to be blood and a possibly soot. Staring at the rumpled effects makes McCoy's stomach coil around itself as he thinks of what has befallen Jim.

"Are you ready to take him home?" Dr. Ta'al asks, her voice breaking through his dark thoughts. She raises her brows and tilts her head, waiting.

McCoy nods, which is good enough for the other doctor and her staff. He follows them as they push Jim out of the _Carpathia_'s Sick Bay and into the deserted hallway.

Everything moves in slow motion as McCoy trails behind the gurney, his eyes trained on the crop of messy light brown hair that peaks over the top. His mind is racing, thinking of what adjustments he wants to make to Jim's medications, which books to carry down to Sick Bay, what movies to load onto Jim's PADD when the books stop entertaining him, how long Jim needs to remain in Sick Bay before he's allowed to return to the comfort of his own quarters.

And lastly, how he's going to tell Jim that under no uncertain terms he is in love with his best friend.

(Though as much as McCoy hates to admit it, it's really the first thing on his mind.)

They arrive at the Shuttle Bay, where the silence upon their arrival is deafening. The crew of the _Carpathia_ who are mingling with the medical shuttle crew stop speaking as the doors open. McCoy can see the worry etched in the faces of the shuttle crew as their eyes drift from Dr. Ta'al and her staff towards their captain.

It is disturbing, McCoy admits to himself, to see Jim so weak and lifeless. He clears his throat and nods his head to the shuttle crew. "Let's get him loaded," he tells them, his voice lacking its usual gruffness.

And they do load Jim onto the shuttle, securing the gurney and transferring the vital signs readout onto McCoy's PADD. He checks Jim over, his hands touching the younger man's body as gently as possible before he nods to the shuttle captain that they are ready to depart.

McCoy goes to shake Dr. Ta'al's hand and thank her, despite wanting to get the hell out of dodge and take Jim home.

Home.

Since Jim disappeared, the _Enterprise_ hasn't felt like home - just a place filled with memories, possibilities, and the dreadful what ifs.

"If it wouldn't be too much to ask," Dr. Ta'al says before her voice trails off and a flush rises to her cheeks, as if she's overstepping her bounds.

McCoy gives her a smile and nods. "I'll send you an update when he wakes up," he tells her. "And he'll want to personally thank you."

The shuttle ride back to the _Enterprise_ is punctuated with the sounds coming from the gurney's monitors and the sound of the pilot's voice.

McCoy doesn't say much to the shuttle staff and opts to sit next to the gurney, his hand clasped over Jim's shoulder and his eyes watching every movement (or lack thereof), every inhale and exhale, and the way the oxygen mask fogs up.

Before McCoy realizes it, they are landing in the shuttle bay. The area is devoid of people, per Spock's orders.

"The hallways are cleared, Dr. McCoy," says the pilot after they've landed.

McCoy nods, hearing the hiss of the doors opening. He turns to see M'Benga poking his head in the shuttle and the momentary look of shock when his eyes rest on Jim. As soon as it appears, the expression is gone and replaced by M'Benga's usual stoic face.

"How is the captain?" M'Benga asks as he steps inside.

"Resting," McCoy answers as he gives Jim's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Let's transfer him to Sick Bay and get him settled, then I'll fill you in."

The transfer is easy enough and getting Jim situated in the BioBed is something that McCoy can do in his sleep. The oxygen mask is replaced with a new nasal cannula, sensors are put in place, and the bed is tilted to a comfortable recline.

McCoy watches the BioBed activate and Jim's vitals flash up on the screens that surround them. His eyes shift to Jim, who remains asleep despite the activity surrounding him.

It's unnerving to McCoy since Jim is always so full of energy, even when the kid does sleep. But even then he'll twitch, make noise, or toss and turn.

"His vitals look better from several hours ago," M'Benga announces from the other side of the BioBed. When McCoy glances up, his friend gives him a knowing look.

McCoy shakes his head in acknowledgement. "I want the antibiotic administered per Dr. Ta'al's original orders and the puncture wound cleaned in two hours. Starting a regen unit on the wound is out of the question until the infection has cleared up," he says, jumping into doctor mode. "I want to rerun his chem panel, the potassium, calcium and sodium are my concern. Dr. Ta'al believes that it's the cause of the tetany of his right hand and I'm inclined to agree with her."

"What about a booster of glucose and protein?" one of the nurses asks.

McCoy looks at her and nods. "Yes," he says, "please."

"Dr. McCoy," says a junior doctor as he looks up from the PADD in his hands. "Dr. Ta'al forwarded the captain's chart."

"Good," McCoy replies as the nurse hands the PADD to him. "Upload this to our files. Only the staff who are assigned to his case and Acting Captain Spock are permitted to have access. I forwarded the list of senior staff permitted to visit before I left and until Jim wakes up only those people are allowed visitation. Tell any crew members that the captain is resting and that you will convey your well wishes to him."

They converse about Jim's treatment for a bit longer before the staff departs to work on their tasks, leaving McCoy and M'Benga with the unconscious captain.

"I never thought I'd rue the day that Jim Kirk kept still," M'Benga quips solemnly, breaking up the silence.

McCoy and the doctor exchange a look before McCoy lets out a heavy sigh as he sinks into the chair next to the BioBed. "You and me both," he says as he watches the steady rise and fall of Jim's chest. "You and me both."

"Dr. Ta'al did a good job at patching him up," M'Benga adds as he presses his PADD against his chest.

McCoy nods in agreement, his eyes still trained on the captain. "She did a great job," he replies softly. "I couldn't have done better myself."

"You're not one to be humble, Len," M'Benga tells him.

McCoy just shrugs in reply when a nurse pokes her head around the corner of the privacy screen. "Yes?"

"Lieutenant commander Scott is here to see the captain," she says quietly.

McCoy sits up as soon as he hears Scotty's name and nods. "Bring him back," he tells her.

"I'm going to take my leave," M'Benga announces as soon as the nurse departs. "I'll let you know what the results of his panel are."

McCoy gives him a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Just doing my job," M'Benga says, returning the smile. He's about to leave when he stops. "And Len, you'll let me know if _you_ need anything, okay?"

All he can do is shrug and make no promises because Jim is McCoy's first priority. As soon as M'Benga leaves, the nurse appears with a nervous Scotty, who pokes his head warily around the privacy screen.

"Hey," McCoy says as he rises from the chair and gestures for Scotty to come forth.

Scotty is tentative as he walks, his eyes on Jim and seemingly afraid that any sound will wake the captain as he sleeps. "Oh laddie," he finally says in a soft tone that McCoy wasn't sure that the Scotsman was even capable of, "yeh've really done it this time." He looks to McCoy.

"He's sleeping," McCoy explains as Scotty goes to the foot of the BioBed.

Scotty's fixed gaze does not dither from its subject. "I haven't seen him this still since…"

He hears Scotty swallowing roughly. _Since he died_, McCoy silently completes the sentence in his head. He trades a worried look with the Scotsman.

"I brought him one of his books," Scotty says, breaking the uncomfortable silence as he holds up one of Jim's books in his hand.

Its hard cover is tattered from age and Jim. McCoy can barely make out the gold inlay on the spine, but judging by the small whale towards the top, he knows that it's one of Jim's favorites.

"Good choice," McCoy tells Scotty.

Scotty shrugs. "The lad was always tryin' to get me to read it," he explains. "Never understood what was so excitin' 'bout a whale."

"It's a classic," McCoy says.

Scotty gives him a skeptical look. "If yeh say so."

"I need to read over the final report from the _Carpathia_'s CMO," McCoy tells the Scotsman. "Why don't you sit and read to him while I'm gone?" He watches Scotty hesitate. "He's out cold, Scotty. Exhaustion will do that to people, even Jim."

Scotty nods, still not looking convinced. "What if he wakes up?"

"Then you press the call button and I'll come right over," McCoy says gently as he gestures to the chair. "I'm sure that he would appreciate the company."

Scotty finally sits down, the book clutched in his hands. "Yeh owe me, laddie," he tells Jim as he opens the book, minding its fragile condition.

McCoy takes his leave, knowing that Jim is in good hands. As he walks around the privacy screen, he hears Scotty say, "Call me Ishmael." 

* * *

At some point, Uhura comes down to relieve Scotty and McCoy finds her reading to Jim, occasionally switching from Standard to some other language he cannot identify. When he comes around the privacy screen, she looks up and gives him a warm smile before placing a bookmark between the pages and setting the book down on the table next to the BioBed.

"Don't let me stop you," McCoy says as he goes to review Jim's vitals.

Uhura shakes her head. "It's fine," she tells him. "How's he doing?"

McCoy casts a glance over his shoulder, watching Uhura reach for Jim's hand. "He's improving," he replies as he focuses on the monitor.

Which beeps at him.

McCoy raises a brow as he pulls up the screen and finds himself looking at Jim's rising blood pressure. "Could you give us a moment?" he orders more than asks.

"Of course," Uhura says as she pushes the chair back.

To McCoy's shock, Jim's blood pressure starts to drop. "What the hell?" he asks no one in particular. He leans closer to the monitor, his eye brows rising to his hairline.

"What's wrong?" Uhura asks, concerned.

McCoy turns around, dumbfounded. "No idea," he replies as he reaches to touch Jim's shoulder, applying gentle pressure. He turns back to the monitors and creases his brow when nothing happens. "Could you touch him again?"

Uhura raises an unsure brow, but doesn't ask questions as she reaches for Jim's hand and interlocks their fingers.

To McCoy's shock, the monitor beeps again and when he goes to look, Jim's blood pressure is rising once more along with his heart rate. He signals to Uhura to let the captain go and watches as the vitals on the screen go from frantic to sedate.

He stares at the monitor in such confusion that a few minutes tick by before he realizes it. It's Uhura's voice that pulls McCoy out of his head.

"Leonard?" she asks as she makes her over to him. "What is it?"

McCoy shakes his head. "No idea," he admits with a shrug of his shoulders. He turns his attention to the screen that displays Jim's neurological activity and sees that the kid is still deep in subspace.

It doesn't mean he's not on some level aware of the activity around him.

"Given the circumstances of his disappearance and how he was found, physical contact may be making him uncomfortable," McCoy reasons.

A mixture of concern and hurt crosses over Uhura's features. "That's understandable," she says.

"It doesn't mean you can't come down here and read to him," McCoy adds, nudging her with his hip. The playful gesture earns a grin from the communications officer. "It's getting late."

Uhura casts a apprehensive look at Jim, then to him. "What about you?" she asks. "You've been up since Gamma shift."

"I'm used to it by now," McCoy tells her as he motions to Jim. "_Especially_ with him running around. I was planning on staying down here tonight anyhow."

"In case he wakes up," Uhura says quietly.

McCoy nods. "A familiar face would probably do him some good."

"Well," she says as she clasps McCoy's shoulder, "I'll let you get to it, then."

McCoy gives her a tired smile as she goes to leave. "Nyota," he calls, watching her back track. "Any word on Spock?"

"He came back several hours ago with the Beta Shuttle in tow," she tells him. "I caught him as he was going into a meeting with Admiral Archer and the executive offices back at Starfleet."

McCoy is not surprised and figured that the half-Vulcan would be tied up in meetings for the majority of the day. In truth, he hates to admit that he _actually_ feels bad for Spock and for the duties he has to fill while Jim is out of commission. "If you see him, tell him to come down as soon as he is able," he says. "I'll let the staff know that Spock can be down here past visiting hours."

"That would mean a lot to him." Uhura is smiling brightly at him. "I'll tell him when I see him. Goodnight, Leonard."

She leaves and it's just him and the captain. McCoy pages one of the nurses, asking them to bring a cot. As the cot is being situated next to Jim's BioBed, the doctor decides to make use of the sonic showers down in the Sick Bay and the extra uniform he keeps in his office.

When he comes back (feeling almost human) one of the nurses, Nurse Rowan, is administering another round of antibiotics and changing the saline drip.

She gives him a smile. "His fever's down," Rowan tells him as she triggered the hypospray. "And his last panel looked good."

McCoy grabs the PADD off the table next to Jim's bed, pulling up his chart for a quick review. The fever still wavers at thirty-eight degrees, giving a flush to Jim's cheeks. It's the lowest it's been since he was found and allows McCoy's panic to uncoil ever so slightly.

The latest chemical panel is a vast improvement from the one he first saw when Dr. Ta'al sent over Jim's file. As McCoy scans through the results, he frowns when he sees the electrolyte readout.

"What is it?" asks Rowan as she changes the bag of saline.

McCoy glances up. "His electrolytes," he mutters.

"Are they still low?"

"No, the opposite," McCoy answers. "They're up."

The nurse hangs the bag on the pole and gives McCoy a reserved look. "Isn't that a good thing?" she quips with a quirk of her brow.

"Yes and no," McCoy states as his fingers touch the screen, sending the latest readout to M'Benga for his perusal and input. "It doesn't explain the tetany of his right hand. Did we run a scan of his enzymes?"

Nurse Rowan tilts her head. "Are you thinking that the captain had a stroke?"

"Dr. Ta'al and her staff would have picked it up on the tricorder," McCoy reasons with a shake of his head. "Could you run a panel and send the results to my PADD in the morning?"

The nurse gives him a smile. "Of course," she replies. "Do you need anything else?"

"No," McCoy tells her as he sets the PADD down. "Thank you, though."

Eventually the nurse leaves and McCoy sinks down onto the cot, bone weary and mentally exhausted. He rubs his hand against his face and lets out a sigh. "Dammit Jim," he whispers to the unconscious form on the BioBed. "Why can't you make my job easier on me?"

Jim remains silent; his eyes are closed and chapped lips parted ever so slightly.

McCoy unlaces his boots and places them under cot once they are removed from his feet. He makes himself comfortable on the cot, settling himself under the blanket and sheets. It's not the bed in his quarters, but its proximity to Jim makes McCoy swear that he's lying on a cloud. He turns on his side, facing the captain, and watches him in the dim light before his own eyelids grow heavy. "I'll be here if you need me," he murmurs.

Then, without much warning, McCoy falls asleep.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Jim remains unconscious and McCoy, while worrying himself into high blood pressure and an ulcer, is not surprised.

Exhaustion is a cruel mistress and sucks the life out of the otherwise hyperactive human being. As doses of medications are tapered down and vital signs improve, Jim lies in a BioBed.

McCoy muses that it's a strange contrast for Jim to be so still while his ship hums around him, carrying his crew through space and as they go about their daily activities.

Jim's not completely still, of course, because that would be near impossible for someone who is just asleep versus a patient in a coma. He does move in small increments; adjusting the tilt of his head, parting his lips, grasping (or not grasping) the bed covers, or furrowing his brow in discomfort.

McCoy, on the other hand, ensconces himself in Sick Bay and keeps a constant vigil at Jim's bedside, watching for any changes in the captain's condition. It's probably a good thing that he's stuck in there rather than roaming the halls of the _Enterprise_, where concerned crew members would probably pester him about Jim's current status or when they can see him.

For once McCoy appreciates Spock's logic, who only tells the crew the bare minimum about Jim. They know that he's recuperating in Sick Bay and is not to be disturbed.

It seems to appease them and it suits McCoy just fine.

He sees Spock during Jim's first full day back on the ship, catching a glimpse of the half-Vulcan while McCoy sits in his office for a communique with Admiral Archer and Dr. Ta'al.

They exchange a nod of acknowledgement as Spock is led over by one of the nurses to Jim's BioBed. He looks worn out, if that was even possible, but relieved to be in close proximity to the young captain.

After the communique ends, McCoy walks out of his office, stretching his tired back, and goes to Spock. He finds the half-Vulcan hunched over in the chair next to Jim's BioBed and staring at the kid with those impossibly dark eyes. His expression is like a marble statue.

McCoy clears his throat, earning an almost startled look from Spock, who pries his gaze away from Jim and looks at the doctor. "His fever broke a little while ago," McCoy tells Spock tiredly walking to the BioBed.

"That is good news," Spock replies, making it sound like a question.

McCoy nods. "It means the antibiotics are fighting the infection," he comments as he picks up Jim's chart at the foot of the bed. "Damn kid sweat through his gown. Nurse Rowan and I had to lift his heavy ass onto a gurney so we could run him under the sonics."

The comment makes Spock raise an angled brow in either curiosity or mirth. "Fascinating," he says in awe, turning back to Jim.

"Not really," McCoy grumbles as he reads through the chart. The last chem panel came back just a hair's breadth of normal, leaving the doctor both relieved and baffled. He turns his head and focuses on Jim's right hand.

The extremity is hidden under layers of crisp sheets and clean blankets, still squeezed into a tight fist. It's the medical mystery that McCoy cannot figure out. He's consulted M'Benga, who thinks it's just a nervous tick of some sort, and countless medical databases to determine what the hell was going on.

He's no closer to figuring it just as Jim is no closer to regaining consciousness (or so it seems).

"Doctor," Spock says, "perhaps I could be of help…"

McCoy knows where this is going and sure as hell doesn't like it. "The answer is no," he snaps almost immediately.

"You do not know what I am about to suggest," Spock counters in a neutral tone.

McCoy shakes his head. "The answer is still no."

"Perhaps if I were -"

McCoy drops the chart into its slot with a loud clang. "Spock," he says sharply. "I do not want you trying out your Vulcan hocus pocus on my patient. He's been through enough, goddammit!"

Spock raises a brow. "You find that Vulcan healing methods are what you like to call _nonsense_. I assure you, Doctor, that they are not. They have been scientifically proven to accelerate the recovery process."

"Until you have a medical degree and a license to practice _human_ medicine, _Commander_, you will allow me to treat Jim as I see fit," he hisses in a fury as his cheeks burn.

They are locked in a heated stare when Jim makes a noise, a soft grunt, as he squeezes his closed eyes and shifts his head against the pillow.

He does not wake up, though his brain activity spikes for those few seconds before Jim slides back into the oblivion that consumes him.

"See," McCoy retorts, "_you're_ bothering _him_!"

He knows that the words don't even make sense, but there is a brief flicker of satisfaction as they come barreling out his mouth.

Spock looks at him, knowing that McCoy is full of shit. "Perhaps it is your raised voice that is disturbing the captain's rest," he sasses back in the most composed of voices.

McCoy grits his teeth together, refusing to let the half-Vulcan gloat him any further. "If you want to be _helpful_," McCoy snarls, "read him a few chapters of _Moby Dick_."

Spock opens his mouth to coolly argue how or why that would be helpful to Jim.

"Just do it!" McCoy yells, not caring who can hear him. Certain people on this ship may think that Spock walks on water, but those people can kiss his ass as far as the doctor is concerned at this juncture of time.

As Spock picks up the book without further comment, McCoy stalks off towards his office and wishes that doors still slammed shut.

* * *

M'Benga makes the doctor swear that he will spend the night in his own quarters with a promise that if anything changed in regards to Jim's condition, McCoy will be notified immediately.

"It won't do the captain any good if you're in here with him," he recalls M'Benga saying from the doorway, keeping a safe distance from the doctor.

He grunts in agreement because he knows that M'Benga is right (the bastard) and that the cot he slept on the previous night is not the same as sleeping in his own bed.

His bed has a real mattress and a close proximity to a shower.

"Also," M'Benga says with a quirk of a grin, "try not to kill the acting captain, Len. We need him as much as we need you."

McCoy gives him the finger much to the other doctor's amusement as M'Benga chuckles his way out to the main floor.

By the time McCoy's temper has cooled, Spock is long gone and more likely than not on the bridge (where he _should_ stay, if McCoy has _any_ say in it). He stalks out of his office, stomach growling and his body aching from a long day.

He'll go to the mess and pick up something to bring back to his quarters, but first he wants to check in on Jim. He crosses Sick Bay to where the captain is and hears a heavily Russian accented voice struggling with Herman Melville's words.

"'In one word, Queequeg, swaid I, rather dwigressively'," Chekov reads in a low voice so he does not disturb anyone, "'hell is an idea fwirst born on an undigested wapple-dumpling; and since then perpetuated through ze whereditary dyspepsias nurtured by Ramadans.'"

McCoy stands on the other side of the privacy screen, listening to Chekov fumbling over the words and cursing in Russian until he closes the book.

"Keptin," he says softly. "I do not think you know this, but hell was invented in Russia. It is true. My grandpapa told me!"

If McCoy had the energy, he would chuckle at the kid's naivety. Instead McCoy clears his throat and pokes his head around the curtain to see Chekov's doe eyes staring at him. The young navigator looks like he's about to excuse himself when McCoy raises a hand and shakes his head.

"I'm just checking on him," McCoy assures Chekov as he goes to the monitors. "You can keep on reading to him if you want."

Chekov does just that, his voice becoming white noise as McCoy goes over Jim's chart and latest read outs. Eventually, he stops and McCoy can hear the book being set down on the table next to Jim's bed. "How is the Keptin?" he finally asks, practically in a whisper.

"He's getting there, kid," McCoy replies as he scans through Jim's vitals, noting several instances where his heart rate and blood pressure spiked, only to fall back into the normal range.

He can hear Chekov clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Doktor?" he asks hesitantly. "What do you mean this _getting there_?"

McCoy casts him a glance over his shoulder and shrugs. "Jim is getting better," he explains. "It just takes some time, kid, but soon he'll be up and about."

He watches as Chekov processes the information and his mouth forms an O. "_Yo moyo_," he whispers, his eyes on Jim. "Zat's good then, yes?"

"Yes Chekov," the doctor tells him with an affirmative nod. "That's good."

It seems to placate Chekov for the time being. With a gentle squeeze of Jim's shoulder, McCoy leaves them despite feeling like he _should_ be there. As he heads towards the doors, McCoy's thoughts drift to the unusual flux in Jim's vitals and stops in his tracks. He reaches for his comm, his lips curling into a snarl, and activates the device.

"Yes doctor," Spock says through the speaker.

McCoy swallows back the string of curses he has ready and grunts, "Get down here _now_."

It takes Spock less than five minutes to walk through the glass doors of Sick Bay and by the time he's standing in front of McCoy, the doctor is ready to explode. Before Spock even has the chance to speak, McCoy rails on him, teeth blared and eyes wide.

"What the hell did you do to him?" McCoy hisses in a viper-like whisper.

Spock raises one his damn brows and there is a genuine look of confusion on his face. "I do not understand what you are referring to," he replies.

McCoy crooks a finger and begins to stomp across the floor to Jim. Chekov is already gone, having gone to meet Sulu for dinner with promises to come back after tomorrow's Beta shift.

They arrive at Jim's bedside and McCoy gestures towards his patient. "What did you to do him?" he demands.

"As I said previously, I do not understand what you are referring to, _doctor_," Spock states, emphasizing McCoy's title.

McCoy grits his teeth together and grabs Jim's chart, thrusting it into Spock's unsuspecting hands. "While you were reading to him – and believe me, _you_ better have just been reading to him – his heart rate and blood pressure unexpectedly spiked," McCoy growls as he goes to the monitors and pulls up Jim's vitals.

Spock is looking at Jim's chart, his brows knitted together in a frown. "This is troubling."

"Damn right it is!" McCoy barks as his fingers press against the screen. "I told you _not_ to perform that Vulcan voodoo on him! He is _ill_, Spock! There's no serum to fix this and while you _think_ you're helping, you're not!"

Spock tilts his head when McCoy turns to look at him. "Doctor," he says evenly, "I did not perform any Vulcan healing methods, per your request, as punitive as it was."

"Then what the hell did you do?" McCoy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Spock purses his lips together as he looks to Jim, watching the captain as he sleeps. "He was contracting his hand," the half-Vulcan replies as he takes a step towards the captain's bedside. "As if he was reaching with purpose."

"Which hand?" McCoy questions, watching Spock point to Jim's left hand that rests on top of his stomach and moves with every breath that the captain makes. "And?"

Spock looks at McCoy. "I made contact with him," Spock replied. "I felt that under the circumstances, that a familiar presence would bring Jim some comfort in his current state."

McCoy arches a disbelieving brow. "And then what happened?"

"The monitors on the BioBed alerted me to Jim's distress and I ceased physical contact with him," Spock states, knowing exactly _what_ McCoy is trying to dig for. Judging by the look on Spock's aquiline features, McCoy is clearly reaching for something that isn't there. "I realize that you are uncomfortable with some of the Vulcan traditions and despite the logic I see in it, I do respect your decision and expertise when it comes to Jim's care."

McCoy's nostrils flare, briefly, before the wind gets let out of his proverbial sails. His shoulders sag and he grips the side of the BioBed, sighing heavily. "Sorry," he whispers, not sure if he's apologizing to Spock or Jim. "I…I just don't know what's wrong with him."

"You said that he is suffering from acute exhaustion as well as multiple physical injuries," Spock states.

McCoy shakes his head. "No," he says, looking at the crisp white linens on the bed. "There is something else, Spock, and I have no idea what it is."

"Perhaps you are searching for an ailment that isn't there," Spock suggests as gently as possible.

McCoy shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time," he mutters. He casts Spock a sidelong expression. "He did the same thing when Nyota touched him last night."

Spock raises a brow. McCoy nods in confirmation and a tense moment of silence passes between them.

"He did," Spock echoes. "That is most…alarming."

McCoy pushes himself off the bed and crosses his arms against. "You're telling me," he utters.

"Has this happened to other visitors?" Spock asks.

"Not that I know of," McCoy replies, his gaze fixed on Jim. He shakes his head. "Kid, what is going on in that head of yours?"

Jim lets out a sigh in his sleep and inclines his head, pressing his right cheek against the pillow. From McCoy's angle, he can see certain aspects of Jim's familiar features: his dark lashes brushing against the tops of hollow cheekbones, the curve of brow bones, and the tip of a nose broken once too much.

The kid looks so incredibly young that it makes McCoy's chest ache.

"Doctor," Spock says softly, earning McCoy's attention. When he looks up, he sees that the half-Vulcan has an impassive expression on his face. "Perhaps some rest would help."

McCoy nods, dumbly. "I'll send you an update tomorrow morning," he tells Spock before walking out of Sick Bay and towards his quarters, forgoing dinner to seek the comfort of his own bed.

* * *

Another day passes with no change in Jim's level of consciousness.

Hour by painstaking hour, his vitals approach the low to mid normal range and allows McCoy to breathe a small sigh of relief.

"It's something," he tells Dr. Ta'al via a video communique, in reference to Jim's latest read out. He is sitting in his office with M'Benga as they both eat lunch and confer with the _Carpathia_'s doctor.

Dr. Ta'al nods in understanding. "Sometimes, Dr. McCoy, it's the small victories," she reasons with a smile.

He sighs in reply, wishing that Jim's recovery was filled with small victories, but one big win in which the kid woke up, whole and hail and annoying the ever living shit out of the doctor until he is released from Sick Bay.

This is the kid who declared that he doesn't believe in no-win scenarios in an auditorium filled with their classmates and Starfleet big wigs.

_What are you trying to tell me, kid? What is it?_ McCoy thinks as he walks across Sick Bay on his daily rounds in an effort to distract himself.

He even goes as far going down to Shuttle Bay, where Scotty has been spending the majority of his time as the Scotsman oversees the investigation of the Beta Shuttle.

Like Jim, the shuttle keeps its secrets held closely to her bosom and frustrates Scotty to no end.

"I cannae understand!" Scotty bellows from inside the shuttle as McCoy approaches. He is only several paces away when a wrench is hurled out the door and bounces against the metal flooring of Shuttle Bay. "Don't look at me like that, yeh crazy little crustacean!"

McCoy hears Keenser's tiny, barely audible voice as he sharply insults Scotty.

"Oh stop! I'm the one who does all the work 'round here while yeh sit pretty and climb things," Scotty retorts. "And get down from 'ere! This shuttle isn't a playground!"

He hears Scotty stomping out of the shuttle and nearly collides with the Scotsman whose face is as red as his Engineering uniform.

"Oh!" Scotty says, slightly embarrassed. "Leonard, I didn't see yeh 'ere!"

Keenser pushes past them, grumbling under his breath.

"I heard that," Scotty calls after him, clenching his fists and shaking his head before turning back to McCoy with a rueful smile. "So what can I do yeh for?"

McCoy shrugs. "I just needed to get away from Sick Bay for a bit," he admits, shifting his eyes to the shuttle.

"Oh aye, I can understand that," Scotty replies with a sympathetic expression. "Yeh want to see the inside? She's quite a beaut."

As far as shuttles go, the Beta Shuttle is impressive and seems sturdy enough for a tin can. The interior is all virgin machinery, sleek metal and a black material that is common in shuttles. Various panels have been torn open and have monitors attached to them, their numbers constantly in flux as data is collected.

"I know it doesn't look pretty," Scotty admits as he observes McCoy looking around. "But investigations are messy beasts."

McCoy nods, absently, as he takes in his surroundings. His eyes fall on various red stains that are ground into the floor, walls, the control panel up front, and one of the back windows. He squats down, to inspect one of the stains, and touches it when his finger.

It flakes off against his skin, dry and crusty. McCoy quickly realizes that it's blood - more specifically Jim's blood. He swallows roughly and wills himself not to throw up inside of the shuttle.

Jim had been trapped inside of this machine, alone, injured, traumatized before the _Carpathia_ found him adrift. McCoy doesn't want to imagine the terror that Jim felt as the Beta Shuttle's systems slowly began to shut down or the sorrow of never seeing his friends again.

"Yeh okay?" Scotty asks, giving McCoy's shoulder a good shake. When McCoy looks at him owlishly, Scotty shrugs. "I know it's a lot to take in…knowing that Jimmy was in 'ere, but he's back home now."

McCoy nods. "I know," he rasps as he stands up. "Maybe he'll stay on the ship for a while after he gets out of Sick Bay."

Doubtful, but McCoy can hope.

"Wishful thinkin'," Scotty chuckles, patting McCoy on the back. "How's our boy doin'?"

McCoy shrugs. "He's still unconscious, but his vitals are improving," he tells the Scotsman, who is looking over one of the monitors. "Have you been able to find anything?"

"Nothin' that helps," Scotty replies flippantly. "Flight record is busted. It looks like it got fried and I cannae get anything off it. I handed it over to Spock. Maybe he can work his Vulcan magic."

"What do you mean it got fried?" McCoy asks.

Scotty shrugs as he scratches his head. "It's fried. Whole panel is blown like most of 'em," he says as he points to various panels. "It's a miracle that the life support systems lasted as long as they did, but the comm panel, navigator, flight record…all of them are done for. They'll need replacin'."

"Sabotage?"

"Perhaps," Scotty answers grimly. "It seems more like ionic damage during my first inspection."

McCoy raises a questioning brow. "Ionic?" McCoy mumbles to himself, remembering how the bridge crew reported the ionic disturbance that was throwing off the sensors on the ship.

Right before Jim disappeared.

"We'll figure this out," Scotty assures him as McCoy's comm goes off.

He sighs heavily as he reaches for the device in his pocket and pulls it out. "McCoy," he says.

"You need to get down here," M'Benga says in an alarmed voice. "_Now_."

McCoy doesn't ask questions and takes off running towards Sick Bay, his heart hammer in his chest and his pulse roaring in his ears. His mind blurs, only thinking about one thing: Jim.

He bursts into Sick Bay, startling a few members of his staff that look at him like McCoy's grown another head as he catches his breath.

Nurse Rowan is approaching him, her features filled with tension. "He's awake," she says.

McCoy's breathing hitches in his throat as he takes off towards Jim's secluded BioBed, not waiting for the nurse to finish speaking. _Finally_, he thinks to himself. _Finally._

He comes around the privacy screen to see M'Benga holding a tricorder up to Jim, who is sitting upright in the bed. He notices the crease in the doctor's brow as he stares at the readings.

"Jim," McCoy says, his friend's name erupting from his lips.

Jim looks at him with slack features and that's when McCoy's stomach drops. His blue eyes - that always burn so brightly - are vacant and unfocused.

Everything about the man staring at McCoy is wrong, so wrong and such a parody that McCoy can't even believe that it's Jim.

"Jim?" McCoy whispers as he feels the first sting of tears in his eyes. "Kid?"

Jim blinks and his eyes flicker for the briefest of moments, then dwindle to nothing, before he turns back to the empty space in front of them, staring.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

In 1874, Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum first described Catatonia in _Die Katatonie oder das Spannungsirresein_ as a state of neurogenic motor immobility and a behavioral abnormality manifested by a stupor.

It is not a separate mental disorder, but associated with other psychiatric conditions such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, and other mental disorders such as post-traumatic stress disorder.

As McCoy sits next to Jim's BioBed with his elbows resting on his knees, he kicks himself for not seeing it.

For not putting the pieces together when they were laid out in front of him.

For not realizing just how traumatized Jim actually was.

For assuming that Jim would be fine when he did wake up because Jim was always fine.

But mostly for not seeing it.

He observes how Jim sits with slumped shoulders on the reclined mattress and stares off at nothing with those dull blue eyes that blink slowly. He listens to each breath that passes through parted chapped lips.

It is the only utterance that Jim makes, that terrible wheezing sound that shows the world just how incredibly fragile Jim Kirk is.

"So," M'Benga says, startling McCoy out of his thoughts. Geoffrey gives him a sympathetic smile as he folds his arms over his chest and glances at Jim.

McCoy nods, swallowing down the sob in his throat. "I should have seen it," he comments in a gravelly voice as he leans back in the chair. McCoy runs a hand over his face and pushes his hair off his forehead before shaking his head. "I should have seen it, Geoff."

"No one saw it, Len," M'Benga reasons.

McCoy shakes his head as tears make his eyes glisten. "_I_ should have seen it," he reiterates. "He's my patient and I'm his CMO and I should have seen it. Everything was right there – every single piece of the puzzle right in front of me: he was nonverbal when they found him, the tetany of his right fist… I never even thought Jim would end up like this, it never even crossed my mind because that kid is a fucking Category Five hurricane."

"Len," M'Benga sighs.

McCoy looks down at his hands as a tear rolls down his cheek. He snuffs and wipes his face. "Geoff, I'm such a damn hypocrite. I scream at this kid that he's only human and not to do stupid shit…and here I am, forgetting the very thing I bitch about _all the time_." He loses his voice to the quiet whimpers that wrack his body for several moments before McCoy composes himself with deep breaths. "I could have prevented this."

"Len, you couldn't have prevented this," M'Benga tells him in earnest, placing a comforting hand on McCoy's shoulder. "Medical science has come a long way, but something like this…it was a ticking time bomb. At least, Jim is home and not on some ship surrounded by strangers."

McCoy is so wrapped up in his head that he didn't realize that M'Benga moved.

"Whatever happened to the captain was bad enough for him to…_retreat_," M'Benga says as he gives McCoy's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

McCoy snorts. "You say it like he's taking a vacation."

"Perhaps it's a mental vacation," M'Benga quips gently.

"Mental vacation," McCoy echoes. "_I_ need a mental vacation!" He realizes that his voice has risen a few octaves and with flushed cheeks, looks at Jim.

There's no eye roll, no annoyed snort or that chuckle that makes the doctor want to punch something, or some snippy remark that makes his blood boil. There's not a single reaction and it's slowly breaking McCoy's heart as he reaches for Jim's limp hand and lightly squeezes his fingers.

"He will get better," M'Benga states, though McCoy isn't sure if Geoffrey believes the words coming out of his mouth. "We'll put him on a round of benzodiazepines…"

"If I can find one that he's_ not_ allergic to," McCoy mumbles under his breath before letting go of Jim's fingers and burying his face in his hands. "Why can't you do things the normal way, kid?"

"He wouldn't be Jim Kirk if he did things like everyone else," M'Benga replies.

McCoy looks up at his friend and colleague. "Don't I know it," he sighs as his eyes travel back to Jim, whose eyelids are starting to droop. He watches as Jim wavers in his upright position and decides to gently ease the captain back onto the mattress. A lump forms in his throat as Jim falls back onto the reclined mattress without any resistance.

_Who are you and what have you done with Jim?_ McCoy thinks to himself, watching Jim's eyelids slowly close and his body go slack with sleep.

"What do you need me to do?" M'Benga asks after a few minutes of them watching Jim sleep.

McCoy wants to ask if M'Benga could put a hit out on the people who did this to their captain, but instead asks, "Could you contact Dr. Ta'al and give her an update?"

"Of course," M'Benga says. "What about visitors?"

McCoy shakes his head. "He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this," he replies sadly. "Just the medical staff assigned to his case and Acting Captain Spock."

_Shit_, he thinks, _Spock._

Only a few hours had passed and McCoy had spent the majority of the time performing scans, running tests, and assessing just how bad Jim's catatonic stupor was.

McCoy pulls his comm out and presses the device, his stomach tying itself into knots.

"Yes, Dr. McCoy?" Spock says over the speaker.

McCoy swallows roughly before saying, "I need to speak with you about Jim. Alone."

"Anything else?" M'Benga asks when McCoy puts the device down on top of Jim's book.

McCoy nods. "Bring the cot back," he answers in a tone that indicates that it's not up for discussion.

* * *

When Spock arrives in Sick Bay, McCoy is researching benzodiazepines on his PADD as he sits next to Jim's bed. He's so enthralled with his research that he hardly registers that the half-Vulcan is standing there, his hands behind his back.

"You wished to see me," Spock states.

McCoy starts at the sound of Spock's voice and nearly drops the PADD. "Yeah," he says as he sets the PADD down next to Jim's legs. "He woke up."

Spock nods as he turns to Jim and quietly observes the sleeping captain, who looks so pale and small against the BioBed's mattress. "He is not well," he finally says, looking back at McCoy.

"No," the doctor replies. "He's not." McCoy gets to his feet, feeling his muscles and ligaments protest from sitting so long. "He's catatonic. I'm classifying it as moderate catatonia. Jim is physical immobile, mute, and does not react to external stimuli."

Spock looks disturbed by this news and it shows in his eyes. "This is most alarming, doctor."

"You're telling me," McCoy agrees. "To be honest, I'm not sure he even knows where he is or even if he was aware when the _Carpathia_ recovered him."

"You believe that Jim was already in this state when he was found," Spock remarks.

McCoy nods. "It's a possibility and would explain the condition he was found in," McCoy explains. He turns to Spock as he folds his arms over his chest. "I keep wondering to myself what the hell it took for him to escape, what he had to do…"

"Perhaps it is not wise to dwell on such things," Spock tells him.

McCoy knows that Spock is right, but he can't help it. The image he has put together of Jim in that shuttle – alone, injured, and god knows what else – is burned into his mind and he sees it every time he closes his eyes.

He decides to change the subject. "I am researching which benzodiazepine he isn't allergic to so we can start treatment. You would think that with all of the other advancements that medical science has made, they would have a hypospray that cures catatonia."

The two men stare at Jim in silence, the severity of the situation resonating with both of them. While they didn't want to admit how bad this could have ended up, they know it has and it hurts them to see Jim, always so vibrant and full of time, like this.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock says, breaking the silence without breaking his eye contact on Jim. "I know that you do not agree with Vulcan healing methods, but perhaps…"

"As much as I don't agree with them, I cannot let you mind meld with him," McCoy says, cutting him off as mildly as he can manage. He turns to Spock and shakes his head. "It is dangerous, Spock. We have no idea what kind of mine field you're going into and this ship can't lose both of you."

Spock raises a brow. "Understood," he replies. "I appreciate your candor and your regard for my personal safety. If I made some inquires with the healers on New Vulcan, would you be amenable to hearing them?"

"At this point, I'm willing to listen to anything so long as he comes back," McCoy admits gruffly.

"You are angry with yourself," Spock states.

"I'm angry at a lot of things, Spock," he grumbles. "Let's just hope that I don't run into the people who did this to him."

Spock nods. "As Jim would say, you and I seem to be on the same boat."

"The accuracy of that statement frightens me more than you realize," replies McCoy. He glances at the half-Vulcan and smirks. "Don't let Jim know that I agreed with you."

Spock's lips twitch into something resembling a smile. "The thought never crossed my mind."

"Good," McCoy tells him. "I know that you'll have to inform Admiral Archer about this."

"Indeed," Spock replies. "I will ask that in light of the current circumstances that Jim remain on board the _Enterprise_. I believe that this course of action is best for all of us."

McCoy shakes his head in agreement. "Thank you," he whispers.

"It is nothing," Spock replies. He lingers for a moment, his dark eyes on Jim, before excusing himself to send a communique to Archer.

The thing is, McCoy realizes later on as he's reading the fine black print on his PADD, it isn't nothing despite what Spock says.

The man could have requested Jim be transferred back to Starfleet Medical where he would certainly be locked away in a hospital room for the foreseeable future (or the rest of his life, but McCoy doesn't want to think about that). Spock would have become captain of the _Enterprise_ while Jim rotted away, held prisoner by his own body and mind.

_No,_ McCoy thinks to himself. _That never will happen._

As soon as Jim had looked at him - vacant and gone - McCoy knew that if it came down to it, he would go back to San Francisco with Jim. He would move Jim into his condo, hire a nurse to ease some of the burden, and find a way to bring the kid back. Even if it took months or years, McCoy would bring Jim.

If McCoy can battle death and win, he can certainly conquer this beast.

While the nurses set up the cot next to Jim's bed, McCoy uses the time to run back to his quarters to shower and change as well as go to Jim's quarters. He grabs a set of clothing – sweatpants, a t-shirt, a pair of woolen socks, and a SFA sweatshirt – and an afghan, worn and tattered, that Jim's grandmother made him when he was a boy. He figures that familiar objects may help Jim somehow (also anything is better than the hospital gowns down in Sick Bay).

He speaks to Nurse Rowan when he comes back to Sick Bay and quietly requests that when Jim is given a sonic shower in the morning, that they put him in the clothing McCoy's brought down.

Nurse Rowan, god bless her, smiles earnestly and nods. "Of course," she replies, patting him on the shoulder before heading off to finish the rest of her duties.

McCoy checks his messages and replies back to several of them, one being from Dr. Ta'al who expresses her sympathies and well wishes for the captain's recovery. As McCoy hits send on a brief but thankful response, he notices that she didn't add swift, speedy, or other anonyms of fast.

It's just as well, McCoy muses to himself as he goes to Jim's area of the Sick Bay. A nurse is administering a hypo with a nourishment supplement into Jim's neck.

At least medical science has figured out something that is less invasive than a gastrostomy tube.

McCoy places Jim's neatly folded clothing into one of the drawers of the bedside table once the nurse has left them alone. He drapes the afghan on top of the Sick Bay blankets, smoothing the creases with gentle hands.

"Jim," he whispers to the unconscious man, "I don't do this for everyone, so don't let it go to that big head of yours." McCoy glances up at the captain and lets out a heavy sigh as he watches Jim sleep, his pulse visible against the pale skin of his neck.

He moves up, bringing his mouth closer to Jim's ear. "You listen to me, kid," he says in a voice that's about to break. "Don't you do this to yourself, okay? You come back. You come back to us." McCoy feels his eyes burning with unshed tears as he leans in, pressing his lips against Jim's hair. "Come back to me."

* * *

The next morning, McCoy wakes up on the cot and has not a single clue of where he is until his sleepy vision falls on the monitors in front of him, pulsing with Jim's vitals.

He rolls over onto his back, letting out a yawn and rubs the back of his hand over his eyes. McCoy hauls himself to his feet, stretching the stiff muscle of his back and glances over at Jim, who is facing away from the doctor and curled up on his side. His light brown hair peeks up over the hood of his sweatshirt, unkempt and sticking up at all angles.

"You're awake," says M'Benga as he appears next to the privacy curtain, holding a PADD in his hand.

McCoy nods. "Just woke up," he replies as he goes to Jim's side and sees a familiar scene in front of him: Jim fast sleep in a fetal position and the side of his face pressed into the pillow.

Back at the Academy and even before their five-year mission, Jim would wake up with creases pressed into his face from the pillow and a dazed look. McCoy always thought he looked so young, too young to be captain of a starship and a hero so many times over.

He reaches out, touching Jim's balled up fist that is tucked under his chin. Jim's breath brushes against McCoy's knuckles in a slow, even rhythm. The nasal cannula was removed the night before when the doctor was satisfied with Jim's oxygen levels.

Small victories.

"He was awake for an hour or two," M'Benga tells McCoy.

McCoy raises a brow and instantly feels awful for not being there. "And?"

"Still unresponsive, but he was as cooperative as he could be during the sonic shower," M'Benga says as he goes to the foot of Jim's bed. "He fell asleep as soon as the nurses got him back on the bed."

McCoy nods, pulling the afghan up a little higher to Jim's shoulder. "Someone could have woken me up," he mumbles, watching Jim's pulse thump against his neck. "I could have helped."

"You needed your rest, Len," M'Benga tells him.

McCoy shrugs. "Did you find anything on a capable benzodiazepine?"

"The cross checking has come up with three possibilities," M'Benga says as he hands over his PADD to McCoy. "I wanted you to take a look at them first."

McCoy rubs his jaw while looking at the PADD screen. "I'll look this over while I have breakfast," he declares with another yawn.

"Nurse Rowan also cleaned and redressed the puncture wound," M'Benga adds. "I think we're just about ready to start a regen unit."

McCoy nods absently. "That's good," he mumbles. "At least _something_ is going right."

He ignores the pointed look he gets from M'Benga as well as the folded arms across the other doctor's chest. McCoy knows that he's being a jerk and that M'Benga is trying to take some of the burden off of him, but he doesn't want to have it easy.

He just wants Jim to be well again.

McCoy forces himself to go back to his quarters and replicate some breakfast. As he eats, he peruses the three benzodiazepines that are compatible with Jim's allergies to medication. His meal – oatmeal with nutmeg and brown sugar – could be saw dust for all McCoy cares.

By the time his breakfast has settled into his gut, the doctor has narrowed down the medication down to lorazepam as the drug of choice. He comms M'Benga to tell him to get a test dose of one to two milligrams loaded into a hypospray and goes to take a quick shower.

All he can think about is Jim as he pulls on his uniform. The blue of his tunic reminds McCoy of Jim's eyes and how he yearns to see them open once more - alert, present, and burning as brightly as they normally do.

He makes the trek down to Sick Bay, his mind racing about all the things he misses about Jim.

Including that dopey grin he gets when he knows that McCoy is about two seconds away from tearing him a new asshole.

Except this time, despite wanting to yell and scream at _someone_, McCoy vows not to do it to Jim. Not this time.

"Dr. McCoy," says Nurse Rowan as he goes through the doors and hands him his PADD. "Dr. M'Benga is waiting for you along with Acting Captain Spock."

McCoy raises a brow. "Spock is here?"

"He came down a while ago to see how the Captain was doing," she replies.

"Oh," McCoy says dumbly.

Nurse Rowan tilts her head. "Would you like me to ask him to leave?"

"No," McCoy replies, shaking his head. "It's fine."

He doesn't say much else as he makes his way to Jim's bed, where he finds M'Benga and Spock waiting. To his surprise, Jim is awake and sitting up.

McCoy watches for a moment as Jim stares vacantly at the space in front of him. He wonders what Jim sees (or doesn't see) or if Jim is vaguely aware of what's happening around him.

M'Benga silently hands McCoy the hypospray and nods as he takes it from his colleague. "We should start seeing a reaction within a half hour," he says quietly.

McCoy swallows. "Half hour, huh?" he comments before letting out a heavy sigh. He goes to Jim without a word and stands next to his friend, watching the kid's eyes blink. McCoy uncaps the hypo in his hand without breaking eye contact.

Normally this would be when Jim starts fidgeting and bitching before trying to run off.

"Should I leave?" Spock asks.

McCoy looks up and sees Spock standing there with his hands behind his back, looking as eager as he can to see Jim go back to normal. "For now," McCoy replies. "I want to see how he's feeling before Jim has any visitors."

"Understandable," Spock replies with a curt nod of his head. "Would it be…"

"I'll comm you as soon as we know more," McCoy answers him.

Spock's lips almost twitch into a smile before he makes his leave. McCoy watches the half-Vulcan go, probably heading towards the bridge more likely than not.

Where Jim _should_ be.

He turns back to Jim and reaches for his left hand, rubbing his thumb over the younger man's knuckles. "Jim," McCoy says. "I'm going to give you some medication, okay? It's in a hypo and I know how much you love these, but it will only sting for a second. And I promise I won't jab you with it like I normally do." He keeps talking as he gently presses the device against his friend's skin. McCoy looks up at M'Benga and nods. "Time it now."

He pulls the trigger, half expecting Jim to jerk back and start cursing a blue streak. Instead, McCoy only hears the sound of M'Benga's watch and the monitors that murmur in the background.

McCoy sets the hypo down and keeps his hand on top of Jim's, watching and waiting for something, _anything_.

It's the longest thirty minutes of McCoy's life as he and M'Benga wait in silence for the medication to kick in. A large part of McCoy wants to grab Jim by the shoulders and shake him until the kid looks him in the eye.

About twenty minutes in, Jim's vitals spike.

McCoy and M'Benga rush to the monitors, watching as the vital signs start to climb.

"Is it working?" M'Benga asks as he studies the data in front of them.

McCoy wants to nod, wants to be optimistic, but fear is stopping him. He's about to open his mouth when suddenly Jim's vitals drop down to zero.

He turns around in mute horror, expecting the kid to be crashing right in front of them, only to find that Jim is clutching the side of the BioBed as he stands on trembling legs. "Whoa," McCoy practically shouts, springing into action as he reaches for Jim's arm. "Jim, Kid…get back in…"

He catches the dazed expression in those blue eyes and the faint spark of awareness as McCoy looks at Jim's otherwise blank face.

"Len, should we –" M'Benga says before McCoy raises his hand, silencing him.

"Jim," McCoy calls softly, watching as Jim stares at the ground. "What is it?" McCoy keeps his hand on Jim's elbow, feeling the jut of the kid's bones against the material of his sweatshirt. His best friend feels like fine china under his hands and it's unsettling. "Kid…"

It's almost like Jim hears him as his head rises and stares at the space in front of them. He doesn't see the tense looks on McCoy and M'Benga's faces as they watch and wait.

"Len," M'Benga hisses through his teeth. "What the hell is going on?"

McCoy is about to reply when Jim steps forward, tugging the hand gripping the kid's elbow. He follows, keeping his pace slow and steady as McCoy observes his friend.

Jim is slow to move, but he's moving as he places one tentative sock covered foot in front of the other.

For some god forsaken reason, McCoy allows the kid to lead him through the main floor of Sick Bay as if the captain is stuck in a dream. M'Benga is following behind them, watching the scene unfold.

"Jim," McCoy says as they come up to the doors that lead them to the hallway. "Where are we going?"

Jim wavers on his feet for a moment, his eyes trying to focus on his surroundings, before he moves forward, ignoring the tug of McCoy's hand.

"Clear the hallways," McCoy says he walks out of Sick Bay with Jim, armed with a mixture of deep concern, curiosity and a tricorder. "And get Spock down here."

* * *

Spock meets up with McCoy somewhere deep inside Engineering. It's seldom used corridor, something Scotty had explained as they both followed Jim.

"I apologize for my tardiness," Spock tells McCoy as he stands next to the doctor as observes Jim walking like a newborn foal down the corridor. "Jim?"

Jim keeps walking, his left hand pressed flat against the walls to keep him upright. He doesn't acknowledge Spock's voice or the fact that he's in the underbelly of his own ship wearing nothing but pajamas.

"Is he aware of our presence?" Spock asks, turning to McCoy.

McCoy motions the two men to follow him as he walks after Jim. "I'm not sure," he admits, watching Jim as he stops for a moment before going down another corridor.

"Laddie," Scotty bellows as he takes off running. "Where the hell do yeh think yeh going? There's nothing down 'ere that can help yeh! Hell, I don't even know what's down 'ere and it's my department!"

McCoy grumbles under his breath as he breaks into a jog, following the sound of Scotty's voice as he berates Jim for wandering around in his state.

"Elaborate," Spock says as they hurry after Jim and the Scotsman.

"He's reacting to some external stimuli," McCoy explains. "Certain voices, surroundings, but I don't think he's completely aware of what's going on or where he _actually_ is."

"Interesting," Spock comments.

McCoy shrugs, dumbfounded. "He came straight down here. At first, I thought he was going to the Shuttle Bay to find the Beta Shuttle – it would make sense since that's probably the last place he was coherent. Somehow, we ended up down here."

Spock raises a brow. "Fascinating."

They find Scotty and Jim standing outside a closed doorway. Scotty is trying to reason with the captain, who is pressing his left hand against the metal door.

"Yeh cannae go in 'ere, laddie," Scotty pleads. He sees McCoy and Spock approaching and gestures towards them with a concerned expression. "Leonard! Tell 'em he cannae go in there."

Jim is pressing against the door, moving his hand sporadically and ignoring Scotty's ranting. McCoy can see by the lines of tension on Jim's face that he's starting to become agitated.

"Jim," McCoy says as he rests a hand on Jim's shoulder. He keeps his voice even and gentle, as if he's speaking to a child. "There's nothing in here. Let's go back to Sick Bay and get you in bed, okay?"

It doesn't pacify Jim or his growing anxiety as he keeps pressing against the door, his features growing tight.

"Lieutenant commander, open the door," he hears Spock order.

Scotty scoffs and retorts sharply, "With all due respect, how is opening a door to nothing goin' to help him?"

"I will not ask again," Spock tells Scotty.

McCoy coaxes Jim away from the door as Scotty goes to use his override on the panel. He hears the angry grumbling under Scotty's breath as he types.

"Cannae believe I'm doin' this," he mutters as the code sequences are accepted. "Yeh better have a good reason for this, laddie."

No one knows what to expect when the door slides open. The room is dark and the air that seeps out into the corridor is stale and dank.

McCoy feels Jim lunge forward, as much as he can seeing as how the doctor is holding his arm with a vice-like grip. "Jim," he utters, shaking his head when Jim does it again. "Jim, no. There's nothing in here."

A pathetic gasping sound tumbles out of Jim's chapped lips as his left hand reaches out, clawing empty air.

"Doctor," Spock says from behind him.

McCoy turns his head to see Spock silently urging him to let go of Jim. "You can't be serious," he snaps at the half-Vulcan.

"I believe that there is a logical reason why the Captain has come here," Spock tells him, levelly.

McCoy shakes his head as he tightens his grip on Jim. "He's not well, Spock!"

"I am aware," Spock replies. "It is clear that he is searching for something."

"So?"

"Perhaps it would be wise if we let him do it."

McCoy groans. "Goddammit," he curses. "For the record, the _two of you_ are pains in my ass!" He mutters another curse before commanding the lights to turn on.

The room – as McCoy suspected – is empty and incredibly dirty, having collected god knows what with its disuse. The floor is covered in a thick layer of dust and the walls that _should be_ white are dingy and turning brown.

In his surprise, McCoy lets go of Jim's arm. "Is this even regulation?" he asks, keeping an eye on the captain as he totters into the room.

"I didn't even know it was 'ere!" Scotty exclaims. "I don't even think it's on the blue prints of the ship…"

Spock is silent, his raised brow the only indication that he is just as surprised as the CMO and Chief of Engineering.

McCoy watches as the soles of Jim's socks turn from navy blue to a murky color and swears under his breath. "Dammit kid," he says he walks into the room.

Jim is in the middle of the room, staring up at a pipe overhead. If he hears McCoy, he's ignoring him (which isn't exactly unusual).

"You shouldn't be down here, _especially_ with your allergies," McCoy continues as he approaches Jim. "We're going…Jesus Christ!"

Jim drops down to his knees without ceremony or a cry of pain. He wavers, uncomprehendingly, as McCoy rushes to him and kneels down in front of him.

The doctor cups Jim's face in his hands, lifting his head so that he can look him in the eye. "Hey kid," McCoy whispers as he searches those blue eyes for any signs of coherence. "That looked like one hell of a fall. Are you okay?"

He doesn't expect an answer, but at least it doesn't look like Jim is in any sort of pain.

McCoy drops his hands, resting one of them on Jim's shoulder and continues to watch the younger man. "Jim," he calls softly as his friend looks around the room absently. The doctor glances down and sees the dirt that has accumulated on the kid's sweatpants as well as his own uniform. "Let's get you back to Sick Bay."

It's by chance that his hand brushes against Jim's enclosed fist that abruptly opens, dropping something warm and circular into his palm.

It happens just as quickly as Jim rising to his feet and rambling out of the room.

McCoy can hear Scotty shouting after him as he gets to his own feet and opens his palm. He lets out a startled shout and starts to tremble.

"What is it, doctor?" Spock inquires as he comes into the room.

McCoy opens his mouth to reply, but cannot seem to find the words to articulate what he's looking at. "No," he whispers in disbelief. "It's impossible."

His eyes dart to the ring on the opposite hand, the one that he always wears on his pinkie, back to its twin that lies in his open palm.

The ring that belonged to his father.

The class ring from when the elder McCoy graduated from medical school and had passed it down to his son upon his own graduation – a circle of platinum with gold and sapphire inlay and the University of Mississippi school emblem on top.

He realizes that Spock is standing next to him and easing the ring out of his grasp. McCoy watches as Spock silently studies the ring, his brow rising to the tips of his bangs.

He swears that the half-Vulcan's eyes widen when he glances at the doctor's left hand, then back to the one between his pale fingers.

"This is troubling," he finally says, looking McCoy in the eye. "We must find Jim."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

It doesn't take long to track Jim down thanks to an exasperated Scotty, who is practically screaming through the speaker of Spock's communicator.

"I'm the bloody Chief of Engineering, not the Captain's babysitter!" he bellows over the sound of his footsteps pounding against the floor.

Spock raises a brow, perturbed. "I do not believe that Jim requires a babysitter," he replies.

"Yeh know what I damn well mean!" Scotty snaps back.

McCoy grabs the communicator out of Spock's hand as they get into the lift. "Where are you?" he asks as the door closes.

"Right near yeh quarters, doctor," Scotty tells him before groaning. "Jimmy! No! What the 'ell are yeh doin' now?" They can hear Scotty's footsteps breaking into a run as he seemingly chases Jim down the hallway. "Get down 'ere _now_."

The connection goes dead as Scotty curses a blue streak.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock says, breaking the silence. "It is troubling that Jim is in possession of a duplicate of your ring. Perhaps the beings responsible for his disappearance meant to use it as a form of psychological torture."

McCoy snorts. "No shit," he mutters under his breath.

"You are angry at my pointing out the obvious," Spock replies.

McCoy shakes his head. "No," he grunts. "I'm angry that someone did this to him, though you pointing out the obvious doesn't help."

"We will find those who are responsible," Spock says in earnest. "Do not think that because of my Vulcan heritage that their deeds will go unpunished."

McCoy raises a curious brow and turns his body towards the commander. "Are you saying that you're going to let your human side govern the consequences of their actions?"

"I will do what is needed," he states as the lift deposits them on McCoy's floor.

They rush towards the doctor's quarters in silence, hearing Scotty's frustrated voice from around the corner as he tries to reason with Jim.

"Jim," Scotty groans. "Jim, laddie. What the 'ell are yeh doing now? Stop touchin' that! No! Laddie!"

As McCoy turns the corner, he realizes that the scene in front of him should have made him laugh because of how absurd it all is.

Jim is worrying his fingers on the door panel to the doctor's quarters, seemingly ignoring Scotty as he tries to pry the captain's fingers away.

"Laddie," Scotty says through gritted teeth as he takes Jim's hands into his own. "Stop touchin' the panel." The Scotsman happens to look at them and gestures wildly. "Now yeh show up!"

Spock raises a brow as he and the doctor rush over to them. "Our apologies, Mr. Scott," he remarks as he watches Jim's ministrations. "Doctor…"

"Already on it," McCoy says as he goes to Jim's side, clasping his shoulder as gently as he can. He listens to the hitched breathing passing through Jim's parted lips. "Jim," he whispers as he takes Jim's hands away from the panel, feeling the captain's clammy skin against his own. "Hey kid, what is it? Do you want to go inside?"

Jim stands there, his eyes slowly blinking as he stares at the door. McCoy moves his hands to Jim's shoulders and rotates his body so that he's facing the doctor.

His heart aches as he takes in that familiar and beloved face, so empty and lifeless. "Jim," he says a bit louder as he slouches just a bit so he can look up at his friend.

What he sees startles McCoy beyond all comprehension.

He swears that those blue eyes have a spark of life in them and that it's really Jim staring back at him. _Help me_, his eyes seem to say. _Please help me…_

Then Jim slips through his fingers, falling towards the ground, limp as a ragdoll.

Somehow – McCoy has no idea how – he manages to catch Jim before he hits the floor, gathering his upper body against his chest over Scotty's surprised shout and Spock's startled expression.

But Jim is in his arms, unconscious, and his head is cradled in the hollow of McCoy's throat. _It's too much_, McCoy thinks as he presses his fingers against Jim's pulse, feeling the steady rhythm. "Let's get him inside," he tells Spock, glancing up at the Commander.

"Should we call for medical assistance?" Spock asks as he watches McCoy lift Jim up, holding him securely to his body.

McCoy grunts under the strain of Jim's weight, despite the kid being almost twenty pounds lighter, and makes adjustments as Scotty punches in his override to the doctor's quarters. "He doesn't need medical assistance," McCoy replies. "He needs _you_."

The door slides open with a pneumonic hiss and the lights from the corridor illuminate some of the doctor's quarters.

"I don't understand," Spock says as he follows McCoy inside.

McCoy hurries towards his bedroom before his strength gives out and gently deposits Jim on his bed. "You need to do that thing," McCoy says as he pulls out the tricorder and runs it over Jim, watching as the device feeds back the captain's vitals.

The readings are on the low end of normal, thanks in part to Jim's current condition and his trancelike gallivanting all over the ship.

"Thing?" Spock replies, raising a brow in confusion. "Doctor, I do not understand which _thing_ you are referring to."

McCoy turns his head, frowning. "That Vulcan hoodoo," he tells him with a wild gesture. "Where you stick your fingers in his head."

"You are referring to the mind meld," the commander states, looking mildly offended.

"Yes _that_," McCoy snaps as he sets the tricorder down.

Spock folds his arms over his chest, a strange gesture coming from him, and says, "Doctor, you said yourself that performing a mind meld while Jim is in this state -"

"I know what I said, Spock!" McCoy shouts, balling his fists at his side.

Spock looks nonplussed. "Then you already know my answer."

"Goddammit Spock!" McCoy groans. "This is Jim we're talking about!"

"I realize what you are inferring to and while I care for the well-being of our friend and commanding officer, you were logical to assume that the risks outweighed the benefits," Spock counters.

McCoy takes a step forward and shakes his finger in Spock's face. "Now look here, you heartless hobgoblin, I am asking. No - _pleading_ with you to help him. Terran medical science can only go far in a case like this and whatever he saw, whatever happened to him - it's keeping Jim from coming back. If we let nature take its course, it could be months…hell, even _years_ before Jim is even lucid enough to understand what's going on. He's going to be trapped in his own head, Spock!" McCoy swallows down the lump in his throat and tries to blink back the tears in his eyes. "I need you to get in there and bring him back. Can you do that?"

Spock opens his mouth, then closes it with a hesitant look on his face.

"Can you do it?" McCoy asks again.

"Doctor, I must caution you-" Spock begins to say.

McCoy groans in frustration and buries his face in his hands so they don't end up around the commander's throat. "I don't need caution or logical, Spock! Dammit man, this is Jim we're talking about! Do you want him to stay like this?"

"You know I don't."

"Then perform the mind meld."

The room fills with tension, so icy and palpable that McCoy reasons that a blind man could see it. He and Spock's eyes are locked together, hazel-green against near black, each of them silently pleading in their own way.

Scotty stands to the wayside, stiff as a board and oddly silent.

"Spock," McCoy pleads in a voice that could pass as a whisper, "you saved him once. You can do it again."

Spock stiffens. "That was different."

"It's not."

"You played a vital role in that, doctor," Spock adds, his voice as rigid as ever.

McCoy bows his head and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Spock…"

"You will need to realize that I cannot promise that the meld will be sufficient in bringing Jim out of his current condition," Spock tells him.

McCoy looks up, stunned. "So you'll do it?"

"I shall try."

McCoy shakes his head in agreement, still dumbstruck. "What do you need me to do?" he asks as Spock sits down on the edge of the bed, near Jim's head.

"Are his vitals stable?" Spock inquires as he looks over the captain, his expression unreadable.

McCoy nods. "Low end of normal, but it's going to be like that for a while. All things considered."

"Good," Spock replies as he raises a hand to Jim's forehead, his eyes never wavering from the younger man's face. "Now I need you to leave."

He wants to argue, saying that they're in his goddamn quarters and Jim is _his_ best friend, but McCoy realizes that he's treading on very thin ice with the commander. The doctor swallows his pride and nods before silently departing his bedroom, motioning for Scotty to follow.

"For a moment, I thought the Commander wasn't goin' to agree," Scotty whispers as they sit down on the couch in the main room. He looks shell shocked and slightly pale when McCoy turns to him.

McCoy shrugs as he leans back into the cushions and says nothing because in all honestly, he had been thinking the same thing.

"The lad really did it this time," Scotty sighs.

"That is the understatement of the century," McCoy grumbles.

They lapse into silence and wait, as there is nothing more that they can do. It feels like hours that passed when it's only been ten minutes before Spock emerges from McCoy's bedroom, looking startled and paler than normal.

"What?" McCoy says, leaping to his feet. "What is it?"

Spock shakes his head, the muscles in his throat working, trying to force words out through his mouth. It takes a moment for the half-Vulcan to compose himself, but eventually he does. "He threw me out," he manages to say.

"He what?"

Spock straightens his posture. "Jim threw me out of his mind," he explains as he ducks back into McCoy's bedroom.

The doctor expects the worse, given the commander's uncharacteristic behavior, as he goes back into the bedroom. He swears he's going to find Jim frothing at the mouth and screaming in tongues, but instead finds that Jim is still unconscious.

"What happened?" McCoy asks apprehensively, as he reaches for the tricorder on his bedside table. He runs the device over Jim's body once more, noting the elevated blood pressure and heart rate that is already starting to fall back within the normal range.

Spock looks at Jim, his aquiline features unreadable, before turning to McCoy. "I performed the mind meld," he starts to explain, his brow furrowing in confusion, "and he rejected me, as if he…" The commander stops speaking and narrows his eyes.

"As if he what Spock?" McCoy urges.

Spock shakes his head. "It's illogical. I must be projecting my own emotions and it's compromising my judgment."

"Spock, what happened?" McCoy sighs, his patience wearing thin. "What did you see?"

"What I saw defies logic," he says. "It was the darkest place I have ever known and while I could not make sense of my surroundings, I could feel Jim's emotions - his fear, his confusion, his sorrow. When I was able to see the essence of him, his emotions became volatile." Spock blinks, as if he's shaking himself out of a daze, and looks at McCoy. "He was able to cast me out of his mind and just as I opened my eyes, I heard him screaming."

McCoy's jaw is slack and his mouth wide open, drawing in the air of his quarters which has suddenly become stale and stagnant. Bug eyed, he pries his eyes away from Spock's face and looks at Jim.

Who looks so calm and peaceful in repose, as if what Spock just described was nothing more than an elaborate tale.

"He needs you, doctor," Spock states, breaking the silence.

McCoy swallows roughly. "I've already done what I can do," he whispers as he reaches out to touch Jim's wrist, his hand hovering over the exposed skin.

"You misunderstand me," Spock tells him. "If I am going to attempt another mind meld, you need to be there in my place."

McCoy snorts in disbelief. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not a Vulcan!" he growls, his eyes burning as he glares at Spock.

"I can act as a conduit," Spock says. "If you allow it."

McCoy chokes out a breath. "You want to be in _my head_?"

"If you are concerned about the meld exposing me to your true feelings for Jim, you needn't worry. I am already aware," Spock replies.

McCoy gawks at him. "What?"

"To be fair, most of the ship knows, though most people assume it's just petty gossip," Spock adds.

McCoy groans and buries his head in his hands. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I assure you, I am not," Spock deadpans, looking as serious as ever. "Doctor, will you do this?"

McCoy glances at Jim through the cracks of his fingers as the smell of his palms sweating fill his nostrils and image of Jim's eyes burning a cerulean blue hole into his brain.

"What do I have to do?" he asks as he drops his hands into his lap.

* * *

McCoy gulps back the dryness of his throat as he lays down beside Jim. His mattress feels like he's lying on a slab of concrete and he's shivering from uneasiness. "I just want you to know that I don't like this," he tells Spock who is hovering above him. "Because I don't."

"I have noted your feelings on the matter," Spock replies with a curious tilt of his head.

McCoy breathes in deeply and exhales. "Dammit, Jim," he curses under his breath. "The shit I do for you."

"You do it because you love him," Spock says in all seriousness.

McCoy turns to look at Jim, whose face is tilted away from him. "Yeah," he whispers, his lips quirking into an affectionate smile. "I do."

"You will need to have physical contact with him," Spock explains. "While you will be present in his mind, I believe that Jim requires the bodily assurance that you are truly there with him."

McCoy arches a skeptical brow. "What do you want me to do? Hug him?"

Spock's angled brows disappear under his bangs, the only sign of his annoyance with the doctor, and replies, "Turn to your side, facing Jim."

McCoy does as he's told without complaint and watches as Jim's body is turned on his side by gentle green tinged hands.

"Move closer to him and hold his hands," Spock orders.

McCoy rolls his eyes and scoots close enough that he feels Jim's breath rushing over his cheek. He reaches for Jim's limp hands, feeling the dry and calloused skin under his own.

"Are you ready?" Spock asks.

McCoy looks to the much beloved face in front of him and yearns to see those full lips smile once more as the corner of his eyes crinkle. "As I'll ever be," he replies, tightening his grip on Jim's hands.

"My mind to your mind," Spock says as he touches McCoy's forehead before the doctor is tossed into darkness.

_At first there is darkness, loneliness, and uncertainty before it recedes to a shuttle flying through space. _

_McCoy, shell shocked, wanders to the front of the Beta Shuttle as he marvels at his surroundings. Ahead of him is stars, shining so brightly against the vacuum of space. _

_And him. _

_Jim's laughter rings through the shuttle as he hears a familiar voice over the shuttle's communicator. _

_"Goddammit kid," he hears himself curse over the comm, "no more loopy-loops! Get your ass back here before I make someone fly out to get you!" _

_Jim just laughs, the sound louder as McCoy approaches him. He can see a mischievous smile on his friend's lips and the way his eyes crinkle. "Bones, you need to get out more." _

_"Captain," he hears Spock say, "it would be wise for you to return." _

_Jim rolls his eyes, snorting. "You two are no fun," he mutters into the comm. _

_The shuttle trembles and Jim is quick to correct it. McCoy can see the concentration winding tightly around his friend's features as he flies the shuttle back to the ship – their home. _

_The meld shifts to Shuttle Bay as Jim powers down the Beta shuttle, going through the motions that they were taught in the Academy. McCoy hears a hiss coming from the shuttle doors as they open. _

_"I'm powering down, Bones," Jim says distractedly. "Just calm the hell down before you hypo me to death." _

_What happens next McCoy cannot explain. He sees Spock standing in the doorway, flanked by Hendorff and Uhura. _

_Except, it's not them – not really. _

_Spock is wearing Command gold instead of his blues, the color washing out his green tinged skin and giving it an eerie, unnatural cast. His dark eyes are still stoic, but there is a madness in them that McCoy is not used to seeing. _

_He watches as Spock snarls and turns to Hendorff, silently beckoning him to do his bidding as Uhura, looking wild and untamed like a panther watches in grim entertainment. _

_"Okay," Jim says as he starts to turn, "done. Now you can yell at me to your heart's con…hey Cupcake, I thought you weren't on until Beta shift." _

_Hendorff sneers as he grabs Jim by the front of his uniform and yanks him out of his seat. "Watch who you're calling Cupcake," the man growls before delivering a punch to Jim's face. _

_McCoy hears Jim's cry of surprise as the security officer's fist connects with his nose. Blood, bright and crimson, spurts out his nose and onto the black material of his uniform. _

_"Jesus fucking…what the hell is wrong with you?" Jim barks as Hendorff drops him onto the ground. He lets out another incoherent shout as Hendorff kicks him in the stomach. _

_Spock steps into the shuttle, passing by McCoy as if he was a ghost, and squats down next to Jim. He reaches out, grabbing the captain by the chin, ignoring the blood and drool that coats his fingers. _

_"Mutiny," Jim slurs, his blue eyes blazing in rage. "Really Spock? After all we've been through?" _

_Spock raises a brow. "This is my ship," he tells Jim, relaxing his grip and letting Jim fall face first onto the floor without a single care. _

_McCoy watches as Jim squirms on the floor, coughing and spitting blood between his lips. "Fuck you," he hears his friend say. _

_"Take him down under," Spock orders Hendorff before turning to Uhura. "And you – get my toy." _

_The scene shifts again – too fast for him – as he follows behind a dazed Jim who is slung over Hendorff's shoulder. His wrists are bound behind him by black cuffs that are almost too tight around the delicate skin. _

_"Jim," he hisses, darting around Hendorff to meet Jim's eye. _

_His pupils are unequal, indicating a concussion, and their movements are sluggish as Jim's face bounces against Hendorff's back. _

_"Come on, kid," McCoy says, panicked. "Look at me. It's just a dream." _

_Because it has to be a dream – that's the only way this makes sense. _

_Hendorff is now whistling as he starts punching in a code into a door panel, bringing McCoy back to reality. _

_As he surveys his surroundings, he can taste the fear and confusion that radiates from Jim's psyche. McCoy realizes that he is in the exact corridor he, Spock, Scotty, and Jim occupied not even an hour before. _

_The door hisses as it opens and he hears Hendorff say, "Lights – thirty-two percent." _

_The room lights up and McCoy gasps. _

_He's in the room that not even Scotty was aware of. Instead of dust on the floor, there is dried blood from various beings, mixing into a black substance that stains the floor. _

_The room smells of death and McCoy wants to gag. _

_"I hope you don't mind," he hears Hendorff tell Jim as he drops the captain on the ground and slides a hook through the center of the cuffs, "but you're going to hanging around here for a bit." _

_Jim groans in reply. _

_"Oh, now you're not so tough now, cadet," Hendorff snaps as he walks over to a lever. _

_This seems to earn Jim's attention and wrath. "It's captain, you fucking idiot." _

_Hendorff glares at him as he hits the lever, roughly jerking Jim upright. "It's captain," he echoes. "Who's the fucking idiot now, cadet?" _

_"I should have left you on Kronos," Jim growls at him as he struggles to find his footing. _

_Hendorff arches a brow. "Whatever," he replies as Spock walks in, holding a whip in his hand. _

_The light catches on the shining ends of the multi-tailed whip, jarring McCoy's memories of Dr. Ta'al's medical report. _

_"I am not going to beat around the bush, Dr. McCoy. I believe that Captain Kirk was beaten at some point during his disappearance, possibly tortured. The healed lacerations are consistent with a whip of some sort and with multiple lashes," he recalls her saying. _

_McCoy shakes his head as he watches Spock walk around Jim's defenseless body, eying him over before shaking his head. _

_"Officer," he says, "you know the drill." _

_Hendorff nods and takes a knife out of his pocket as he approaches Jim, whose eyes widen. _

_"What the fuck?" he shouts, trying to kick the burly officer. "Get the fuck off me. Cupcake, you piece of…" _

_A hard blow collides with Jim's head, followed by another one that ignites a howl of pain. _

_"One more for old time's sake," Spock purrs uncharacteristically and smiles in appreciation as Hendorff punches Jim again. _

_Judging by the screams that fills the room, McCoy determines that the punch hit Jim hard enough to rupture the thin membrane in his ear. _

_As Jim's screams continue ringing, Hendorff removes his shoes, then his socks, tossing them across like trash. He pulls down Jim's pants and underwear in a single motion, leaving the captain's bottom half naked. _

_Hendorff chuckles as he grips Jim's ass in his hand, pinching the skin too tightly before he starts to haphazardly cut off his black shirt. _

_The scene changes again and McCoy can hear Jim's relentless sobbing as Spock abuses and torments his body with the whip. _

_He watches in horror as blood spatters and flies off Jim's body thanks to the blade sharp edges of the silver tails. _

_They steadily grow darker and darker as Jim's blood stains the metal. _

_"Now," McCoy hears the half-Vulcan say as he paces around Jim's body, his fingers tracing the lines of the spikes attached to the multi-tailed whip, "I will ask you the question once more and I suggest you answer it." _

_Terror radiates through the air, slowly choking McCoy with its essence. It's like gunpowder, the coppery scent of blood, and human bile. _

_He watches as Jim swallows back a sob and squeezes his eyes shut, willing away this nightmare as tears stream down his face. _

_"Jim," Spock whispers. "Jim, open your eyes." _

_McCoy swallows down the sick feeling in his stomach. "Jim, it's okay," he says. "Jim, wake up. It's not real." _

_He watches Jim bite his lip to keep himself from screaming and the motion of him shaking his head. _

_"Jim," Spock purrs, making Jim shudder as the leather and metal touches his naked body, making the wounds bleed once more. _

_"Jim," McCoy cries out, standing next to his friend. "It's not real! Listen to me!" _

_He hears Jim's thoughts as they scream nothimnothimnothim over and over again. _

_"Captain," Spock says as malice curls around the word. "Captain James T. Kirk, open your eyes." _

_Jim's breath hitches in his chest and shakes his head once more, barely if at all. _

_McCoy falls backward as Spock grabs Jim's face with a vice-like grip. "Are we crying again?" Spock asks, ridiculing him. "Such a pitiful display of emotion." _

_He lets go of Jim's face and ignores the younger man's groan of pain. "Let's try this again," he says. "How were you able to fake your death and escape Delta Vega?" _

_McCoy starts and pales. "Wait, what?" _

_"I already told you," Jim rasps, "I'm not who you think I am." _

_"You are Cadet James Tiberius Kirk, are you not?" _

_Jim groans in frustration. "I'm Captain James Tiberius Kirk." _

_"You keep repeating these falsehoods…these delusions," Spock replies in a cool tone. He begins to circle Jim, slapping the whip against the palm of his hand. "You know perfectly well that I am captain of this ship, yet you continue to provoke me with these lies. Why is that, Jim?" _

_McCoy shakes his head. "He is the captain! What the hell are you talking about?" _

_The blows start again, each snap of Spock's wrist growing steadily violent as time stops. McCoy can hear Jim's screaming, feel and taste his terror. _

_Bones – his mind calls out – I'm going to die. I'm going to die. _

_"Jim!" McCoy screams as the blows continue, falling further down his body, stripping the skin. "Jim! I'm here!" _

_The exchange between Spock and Jim becomes jumbled, gargled – the pain becoming clearer and sharper until it stops and everything falls silent. _

_Until the tidal wave comes back, duller this time and McCoy hears a voice. _

_His voice. "Jim?" _

_McCoy finds himself in Sick Bay and staring at himself – another version that looks haunted to see Jim laying on the BioBed. _

_His twin is so different from he, so lifeless and defeated, and in awe of Jim as they stare at each other. _

_The scene starts to play in fast forward and McCoy can't catch a single word. The sensation of Jim's panic is all around him as Spock comes back, then disappears to be replaced by this McCoy and Jim's exchange that gradually slows down. _

_"Second of March." _

_"What about it?" A moment later, McCoy hears: "Bones? Bones…what about the second of March?" _

_"It's nothing, kid." _

_"Clearly it is. Tell me." _

_"More than friends," he hears the other McCoy whisper, the pain of remembrance in his voice. "My Jim and I were more than friends." _

_McCoy lets out a cry of surprise as the world shifts, rapid and unhinged as Jim's emotions surge and charge without hesitation. _

_There is a kiss, screaming and shouting, panic, frustration, fear, bravery, sadness, confusion, and Pike. _

_They are on an icy planet – Delta Vega if McCoy's memory serves correctly and Pike is still alive. He looks vastly different – like a wild beast, contained to a hell not of his own making. _

_But there is still a warmth about him that makes Jim fall apart at the seams. _

_The want of missing a loved one, the disbelief of their arms wrapped around you in comfort, their voice as they bestow wisdom. _

_There is a body, a body that looks just like Jim, tucked away in an escape pod. _

_There is screaming – the other McCoy screaming as Jim is dragged back to a shuttle. _

_There is Uhura as she straddles Jim with her knife buried in his shoulder. _

_He hears his own voice, screaming and ragged, cursing Uhura as he kills her without hesitation. "I'm going to kill you, then I'm going to kill him. That's right – I'm going to pull the fucking trigger that ends him. I'll follow him into the depths of hell if I have to." _

_"Bones! Stop!" _

_There is darkness. _

_There is light. _

_Pike is back and whispering quiet words over Jim's sobs. _

_There is a dim room and two bodies that are moving against each other, their shuddering breaths and moans echoing off walls. _

_He hears the sound of kissing, sloppy and desperate, and a voice whispering a single word: Bones. _

_McCoy steps closer, peering over the naked back of a man, whose skin glistens with sweat. He swallows in discomfort, as if he's intruding. _

_He hears the voice again, louder this time. _

_Bones. _

_The man moves his head and buries his face in the hollow of his partner's throat. _

_Jim's throat. _

_McCoy cries out in incredulity and lets his mouth fall open. _

_Jim's partner raises his head and in the poor lighting, McCoy catches a glimpse of his own face before he lowers his lips to Jim's with a smile. _

_McCoy watches as Jim arches his back and moans loudly into the other McCoy's mouth. _

_Then he feels loved, cared for…happy. _

_"I just think…what if I'm not meant to go back?" _

_"What do you mean?" _

_"Maybe I don't belong there anymore. Maybe I was meant to come here all long and make things right." _

_Happy in a place filled with darkness, where there shouldn't be happiness but there is. _

_"Jim. I see you. Just you, no one else." _

_There is betrayal with the best intentions, heartbreak, anger, and helplessness. _

_"I could have loved you." _

_McCoy feels tears forming in his eyes. "Jim," he says as the scenes shift and churn. "Jim…I'm sorry." _

_There is Pike yelling and the other McCoy's steadfast comfort. _

_There is a Shuttle Bay and a ship under attack. _

_There is Spock – the other Spock – but it's all the same. He and Jim are fighting, injuring each other despite the latter's sorrow of doing so. _

_There is a mind meld and an understanding and there is death. _

_There is Jim stumbling from shuttle to shuttle with a broken body and an equally broken heart. _

_There is a shuttle, then there is nothing. _

_"Jim," he hears the other McCoy say. _

_Bones. _

_"I want you to listen to me." _

_Bones. _

_"I want you to know that I would have loved spending every moment with you – watching you be a captain because I know that you're a damn good one despite what you say. I would have loved having you in my arms every night and seeing those blue eyes when you woke up in the morning." _

_Bones, not like this. _

_"I would have loved spending my life with you. Every single second of every single day; I know that we would have been happy." _

_Please Bones. _

_"Jim it's going to be okay." _

_Don't do this to me. _

_"It's going to be okay." _

_Bones, I love you. _

_"I love you, too," both McCoys say. _

_Please don't leave me. _

_"I'm not," McCoy says as the other one says, "Be brave, Jim." _

_There is a ring being removed from a pinkie finger, its materials catching in the light as it's put into the pocket of Jim's jacket. _

_"You keep this safe, you hear?" _

_Bones, no. _

_"I love you, Jim." _

_Then there is grief and rage – all so fluid and mixing together as the Beta Shuttle flies out of the ship. _

_Not you, not you, Bones. _

_There is Jim on unsteady feet, catching an exploding ship that burns brightly then disappears. _

_There is Jim's anguish, so palpable and suffocating as it fills the shuttle. _

_Until… _

_"Jim," McCoy says as he kneels down next to his friend. "Look at me." _

_Jim obeys and stares at him with glassy eyes that are red from crying. "Why did you leave me?" _

_"I'm right here," McCoy tells him as he reaches to brush the sweaty hair off Jim's forehead. "I didn't leave you." _

_Jim swallows as more tears stream down his face. "But you did," he cries. "You did." _

_"I'm here," McCoy replies, shaking his head. "Jim. I'm right here." _

_Jim shudders and whimpers. "You're dead. You're dead." _

_"I'm alive," he says. "Jim, I'm alive. I'm waiting for you to come back." _

_Jim closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I'm never coming back. I'm lost. You left me." _

_"He left you," McCoy insists. "I'm right here." _

_Those too blue eyes stare at him, flickering between life and death. "Where are we?" _

_"We're home," McCoy tells him. "We're home, but you need to come back to me. You can't do this to yourself." _

_Jim's lower lip trembles as he focuses on his surroundings. "I made it home?" he asks, awed. _

_"Yes," McCoy replies. "You did." _

_Jim's face crumbles as sobs wrack his body. "Jesus," he chokes. "Bones." _

_"I'm here," McCoy says as he grabs Jim's closed fist, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles. He watches as Jim looks down at the doctor's hand, his eyes widening when he spots McCoy's ring on his pinkie. "Jim?" _

_Jim looks up, as if he's seeing for the first time. "Where are we?" _

_"We're in the Beta Shuttle." _

_Jim swallows, roughly, as tears stream into the sides of his mouth. "You said we are home." _

_"We're in your mind," McCoy corrects himself. "You were found by another ship and we brought you home." _

_Jim shudders again. "I'm sick." _

_"Yes," McCoy says as he holds Jim's other hand. "You're sick." _

_Jim swallows back a sob and shakes his head again. "I'm sick," he tells McCoy. "I'm stuck here." _

_"No," McCoy replies, his own voice breaking. "You can come back." _

_"How?" _

_"Fly us home." _

_Jim looks confused until his eyes rest on something in front of them. Slowly, he rises to his feet, keeping one hand clasped to McCoy's. "Fly us home?" he asks. "You hate it when I fly." _

_"I'm willing to make an exception," McCoy tells him, squeezing his hand. "Just this once." _

_They look at each other. _

_"Just this once?" Jim asks. _

_Yes. _

_Just this once._

* * *

McCoy blinks away the remaining effects of the mind meld and swallows in a lungful of oxygen as if he was breathing for the first time. The sparkling darkness recedes and he finds himself in the familiarity of his quarters, his bed pressed against his side - cradling him, holding him.

He hears someone gasp, their breath moving his hair and cooling his sweat coated forehead, and the sensation of his hands being squeezed.

_Jim._

McCoy looks to see Jim lying next to him, his startling blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as he stares back at him. The younger man looks so fragile, so pale as he takes in his surroundings with uncomprehending eyes.

"Bones?" he asks in a small voice, rough with disuse.

McCoy swallows back the sob when he hears Jim calling him that ridiculous, stupid nickname - the one that he tried to ignore until he was resigned to answer to it, despite how much he hated it.

Now it sounds like a litany.

"Bones?" Jim sobs, his confusion crumbling as tears soak his cheeks. "Bones?"

McCoy nods, his composure that was already waning gives way to tears of pure and utter relief as he pulls Jim into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as he dares. "I'm here," he says over Jim's sobbing. "I'm here. You're home. It's okay."

He presses his cheek against Jim's hair, breathing him in and letting his tears disappear into light brown strands. Jim is fisting the back of his uniform and holding on for dear life as he babbles into McCoy's shoulder, his words muffled.

"Shh," McCoy soothes as he pulls back and brushes his thumb against Jim's cheek, wiping away tears with a gentle touch.

McCoy sees a smile break out on Jim's chapped lips, a smile of complete relief and joy. It's so genuine and bright that the doctor swears he's looking directly into the sun.

"It's you," he hears Jim whisper.

McCoy nods. "Yeah, kid, it's me."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

"So it seems that the ionic disturbance transported the captain into an alternate reality," Spock says, sitting across from McCoy in Jim's main living area.

McCoy raises a brow, silently questioning the commander.

"It's not so farfetched," Spock explains. "After all, Nero was able to access our own reality via a black hole. Who's to say that the anomaly cannot be replicated elsewhere?"

McCoy shrugs. "Except the reality Jim fell into was a nightmare," he replies quietly, glancing towards the open doorway that leads to Jim's bedroom. The lights are dim - in fact, they are hardly even on - but the doctor leaves them like that so when Jim wakes up from his nap, he will know where he is.

"Yes," Spock says darkly. "Admiral Archer informed me that Starfleet has decided to send two research vessels - the _USS Minerva_ and the _USS Armstrong_ - to monitor and report back on their findings."

McCoy scratches his head, nodding. "I suppose that's the right thing to do," he sighs, "so it doesn't happen to someone else."

"It is also logical to ensure that they cannot cross over to our reality," Spock adds.

It is logical and McCoy involuntary shudders to think what would happen if those people - those horrible caricatures of themselves - came here.

What horrors they would bring.

What destruction they would cause.

What it would do to Jim to have to relive it.

"Doctor?" Spock asks, tilting his head. "Are you well?"

McCoy blinks, realizing that he had gotten lost in his own thoughts. "I'm fine," he replies. "Just tired."

"The mind melds residual effects have been recorded to last up to a week," Spock comments. "It has only been three days since the meld was conducted and given its…"

"Intensity?" McCoy offers with a rueful grin.

Spock's lips quirk. "An apt choice of words," he remarks. "I can assure you that the affects you are experiencing are normal, doctor."

McCoy sighs heavily. "That and Jim's sleep schedule is all off," he explains. "Damn kid woke me up at three in the morning to see if I wanted to play a game of chess. And I hate chess!"

Spock raises a brow as the corners of his mouth curl into what must be a smile. "Perhaps we should consider it a good sign that Jim's personality has remained intact?"

"He's lucky I haven't hypoed him into next century," McCoy tries to grumble, except it comes out in a chuckle. "God, sometimes I want to throttle him, but at times like these - when we've come so close to losing him - I just let him get away with it."

"When there are near-tragic occurrences, it is a reminder to appreciate the things we usually take for granted," Spock tells him.

McCoy raises a questioning brow.

"It is logic," Spock adds.

McCoy shakes his head. "It's poetic," he counters with a grin.

"How is the captain feeling?" Spock asks, changing the subject.

McCoy glances towards the bedroom. "He's exhausted - normal given the circumstances," he explains as he turns back to the commander.

He's sure that Spock knows that exhausted is an understatement and is happy that the half-Vulcan doesn't press him.

Their captain and friend is beyond exhausted - he's fallen apart, though McCoy won't admit it to another else, _but_ Jim. He's been sleeping the majority of the time since coming out of his stupor and when Jim is awake - in two or three hour spurts that McCoy feels are too far between for his liking - it's a weaker version of himself.

He's there and present, but so docile, so opposite of the Jim _he knows_ that part of McCoy is terrified that his friend is going to slip away again.

So McCoy sleeps next to him, partially so he can whisper into Jim's ear while he's sleeping to keep fighting, to stay with him and because Jim is terrified to sleep alone.

Not that McCoy minds waking to find Jim's head pillowed against his shoulder and a limp arm wrapped around the doctor's middle. For them to be pressed so close together, fitting like puzzle pieces. To him, it's the most perfect sight in the universe to see Jim's sleeping face so close to his own, clear of any anxiety or sadness.

It makes the times when Jim screams himself (or them both, like last night) awake more bearable as the other McCoy's name on his lips as he relives the moments leading up to the doctor's death in nightmares.

It's always the same - Jim is fighting against the bed linens, thinking he is still strapped to the pilot's chair in the Beta Shuttle, as the other McCoy goes to his death.

His helpless screams and hysterical sobs punctuate the captain's quarters, begging and pleading for the man not to leave him until his nightmare turns to the McCoy that has his arms wrapped around him in an effort to keep Jim from hurting himself.

"Shh," McCoy remembers whispering into Jim's sweat laden hair, holding the younger man's trembling body. "Jim, it's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

It seemingly takes forever for Jim to come out it and leaves McCoy subjected to listening to desperate _I'm sorrys_, _please don't leaves_, and _no Bones_ until those teary blue eyes look up at him and Jim lets out a sob of relief. He loosens his hold and cradles Jim to his chest, rocking him until the captain calms down or falls asleep.

"Doctor?" Spock asks.

McCoy blinks, realizing that his mind has wandered off. "Sorry," he says, clearing his throat. "I have him on a round of nutrient boosters to help Jim gain back some of the weight he's lost and the anti-anxiety medication seems to be helping. At least last night was his last hypo of antibiotics."

"That is an improvement," Spock remarks.

McCoy nods. "I asked Geoff to bring a portable regen unit over tomorrow, during Beta shift. Even if Jim is asleep, it would probably make him happy to know that he'll wake up and the scar will be gone."

Spock's expression darkens. "As would I."

"Spock," McCoy says gently. "You realize that Jim knows it wasn't you."

Spock presses his lips together in a thin line, clearly indicating his feelings.

"You have to know that," McCoy urges. "Spock?"

Spock nods. "It was difficult watching what Jim suffered at the hands of my counterpart - both of them. While Jim has conveyed his feelings on the matter in private, it still disturbs me that I _could_ be capable of such destructive actions."

"We all could," McCoy adds, quietly. "But we don't."

"This is correct," Spock replies.

They fall silent again, each man deeply involved with their own thoughts when Spock's comm beeps from his pocket.

"This is Spock," he says.

"Admiral Archer is on video comm in the Ready Room," says Uhura over the speaker.

Spock raises a brow. "I was not expecting him," he replies. "Did he say what this was regarding?"

"He said that he wanted to talk - off the record," Uhura answers.

Spock nods. "I shall be there shortly," he says before closing the device. "I know that the Admiral is anxious to speak to Jim personally."

"Well, he'll have to wait along with everyone else back at Starfleet," McCoy tells the commander as he stands up and starts walking him to the door. "Did he say when they'll want to speak with Jim about what happened?"

"I already filed my report, which the Admiral agrees shall be enough to close the investigation," Spock replies, surprising the doctor. "He feels that given the circumstances, it would be unwise to subject Jim to questioning."

McCoy lets out a sigh. "Thank you," he says quietly. "Really, Spock. Thank you."

"You are welcome," the half-Vulcan replies. "Please tell Jim that I am sorry that I missed him and that next time, we will play a game of chess."

"Will do," McCoy tells him before the door opens and Spock leaves, heading towards the bridge. As the door closes with a hiss, McCoy finds himself immersed in near silence and without anything pressing.

It's strange to be in Jim's quarters during his normal shift instead of Sick Bay, when they should both be on duty.

Though, technically, McCoy _is_ on duty.

It was decided the day after Jim came out of his catatonic stupor that he would spend his time recovering in the familiarity of his quarters.

"This will be good for you," McCoy told him as he tucked Jim into his own bed. "You need to be in a comfortable and familiar setting, even though we all know how familiar you are with Sick Bay."

Jim nodded, tiredly, before frowning as his blue eyes took in his surroundings. "Who changed my sheets?"

"I did," McCoy replied without missing a beat, catching the baffled expressed on Jim's face. "Now just say thank you and shut up."

Jim had choked out a thank you between his weak laughing. Normally McCoy would launch into what an ungrateful brat his friend was, but the sound of that familiar chuckle put a smile on his face.

Picking up his PADD and tricorder, McCoy goes into Jim's bedroom, quietly commanding the lights to turn on just a hair brighter.

He sees that Jim has somehow managed to unconsciously kick all the blankets to the end, spilling them onto the floor. Shaking his head, McCoy sets down the items in his hands and goes to fix the mess of sheets and blankets.

McCoy used to do this when they were both still in the Academy and Jim would spend the night on his couch after a night of studying or heavy drinking. He would stumble into the main living area of his single (a perk of being in the Medical track) and find Jim halfway falling off the couch and completely oblivious.

As he's draping the bed linens over Jim's back, McCoy hears the younger man snuffing and groaning before he stretches out like a lazy cat and his eyes flutter open.

"Mornin' sunshine," McCoy quips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, watching Jim as he comes out of his nap.

Jim blinks owlishly. "What time is it?"

"About thirteen hundred," the doctor responses.

Jim startles, lifting his head off the pillow. His hair is sticking out at all angles and for a moment, McCoy wonders how someone so young could be the captain of a starship. "Really?"

"Yeah," he says, patting Jim's shoulder as the younger man frowns. "You needed it."

Jim wrinkles his nose. "I know," he grumbles as he turns over onto his back, his shirt riding up and exposing a thin line of pale skin. "I can't believe you're letting M'Benga run your Sick Bay."

"He is perfectly capable of doing it while I'm here with you," McCoy says as he reaches for his tricorder and starts running it over Jim.

Jim lies still and closes his eyes. "He'll probably start reordering your inventory."

"If he does that, I will murder him and make it look like an accident," McCoy quips as he focuses on the readings of the device.

Jim snorts back a laugh and opens his eyes, grinning weakly. "What are you going to do? Push him down a flight of stairs?"

"Something more creative," McCoy replies without looking up. "Accidental overdose on sex pollen."

Jim chuckles for a few moments before he quiets down and watches McCoy input his latest readouts into the PADD.

As McCoy is sending the information off to M'Benga, he hears Jim whisper, "I'm sorry about last night."

He stops typing and looks over the screen from his PADD to Jim, who is blushing furiously and looking sheepishly at McCoy before he breaks their eye contact. "Jim," McCoy says, setting the PADD down on the bedside table.

"I shouldn't have…" Jim's voice trails off and his features darken. In the low light, McCoy can see the younger man's eyes glistening. "Sorry."

McCoy moves to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress to allow Jim some space. He watches his friend as he picks at his cuticles rather than look the doctor in the eye. "What _exactly_ are you apologizing for, Jim?"

"Everything," Jim says in a broken voice as his eyes close, unleashing a single tear that rolls down his cheeks.

McCoy raises a brow. "Kid, you're going to need to be more specific," he replies as he scoots closer to Jim.

Jim shakes his head, sniffling back a whimper.

Despite the poor lighting, McCoy can see that Jim is pressing his trembling lips together in a tight line to keep himself from crying out.

It doesn't take much to figure out what the younger man is referring to, given the circumstances. No longer able to keep away, McCoy moves closer to the captain and pulls him into his arms. He bites his lip when he hears Jim's shuddering cry and rests his head under McCoy's chin.

"Jim," McCoy says as he strokes Jim's arm with his fingers. "There is nothing to apologize for, okay?"

Jim is shaking his head. "I shouldn't have harassed Spock into letting me fly the Beta Shuttle," he hiccups. "I should have stayed on board…I should have stayed here."

McCoy finds himself rocking them back and forth as Jim falls apart, babbling "I'm sorrys" and "I should haves" incoherently.

The thing is - McCoy lets him because he knows that despite the bravado and cocky airs, Jim needs this release. He needs his best friend to stay silent and to hold him through the worst of the tears and nightmares and rollercoaster ride of emotions.

Eventually Jim's voice is reduced to ragged breathing and hiccups as he rests against McCoy, wrung out and exhausted.

Just when McCoy thinks that Jim has fallen asleep, he hears Jim whisper, "What's wrong with me?"

"You're exhausted," McCoy explains. "You've been through hell and back, kid."

"I'm the captain," he counters, morosely.

McCoy holds him a bit tighter and presses his lips into Jim's hair, hoping that the gesture - meant to be comforting - isn't too forward. "You're also human," he replies against his scalp. "Despite what others may think."

"I'm supposed to be leading everyone on this ship and setting an example," Jim mumbles as he relaxes into McCoy, nuzzling his head against his throat.

McCoy glances down and rolls his eyes. "You are a damn fine leader, Jim," he says. "And I'm not just saying that as your friend - I mean it. You have nothing to prove to anyone on this ship or throughout the fleet."

Jim is quiet and seems to be mulling over what the doctor has said.

"I know what you said to him," McCoy tells him - referring to the other McCoy. "And while Spock has many qualities that could make him a decent captain, he's not you. We need you, kid."

Jim is trembling in his arms again, his breath hitching and his tears wet against McCoy's skin.

"I need you," McCoy whispers, his own eyes watering. "So you take all the time you want because no one is expecting you to be back at a hundred percent immediately. You get your rest and you take your time."

"But I'm the captain," Jim cries softly. "I can't be like _this_…"

"Right now you're just Jim," McCoy tells him as he cards his fingers through the younger man's hair, not caring if Jim's tears and mucus are wetting the front of his shirt. "And you can fall apart because I'll be here to put you back together again."

His statement holds so many unsaid implications and it's the closest McCoy's gotten to saying those three words.

It's not direct, but for the time being it works.

* * *

McCoy wakes up to the chime of Jim's door and Jim curled up against his chest with one of his fists clutching the front of his shirt. It takes some stealthy movements, but McCoy manages to untangle himself from Jim's grasp and settles him onto the bed just as the chime rings again. Pulling the blankets over him, McCoy leaves Jim in bed as he answers the door on the fourth ring.

As the door slides open, he sees its Uhura and she's carrying food from the mess.

"Did I wake you?" she asks.

McCoy steps aside to let her into Jim's quarters. "It's fine," he assures her, keeping his voice low as he watches her set the food down on Jim's desk. "We had a bad day."

It sounds silly to say it aloud, given Jim's only been fully lucid for a few days, but McCoy feels he owes Uhura an explanation.

Well – everyone an explanation, really.

"Oh?" she comments, looking up at McCoy with concern. "Is he okay?"

McCoy shrugs. "He will be," he says, glancing towards Jim's bedroom. "Damn kid needs to remember that he's not Superman."

"He wouldn't be Kirk if he did that," Uhura jokes as she starts removing covers from the food.

McCoy sighs. "Normally I would agree with you, but now…the situation is _different_," he says. He meets Uhura's gaze and his lips twitch. "I don't know what Spock told you…"

"He didn't tell me much other than it was traumatic for Jim," Uhura replies with an understanding smile that has a hint of sadness. "Spock is leaving it up to Jim make the decision to tell me what happened or if he even wants to."

McCoy nods, silently thanking the commander's staunch logic for once. "I'll go wake him," he tells her as he starts towards the bedroom. He stops short and turns around. "Don't be surprised if he nods off."

"Len," Uhura sighs, shaking her head affectionately. "It's fine. Just go get him."

It takes an impatient gesture from Uhura to get him moving, but McCoy goes to retrieve Jim.

Jim is where he left him, curled on his side and his head cradled by the pillow that McCoy occupied. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, his breathing even and free of hiccups.

McCoy leans over him, gently shaking his shoulder. "Jim," he says, watching as the younger man's features contort. "Dinner time."

Jim's eyes, the lids puffy from crying, flutter open and he focuses on McCoy. "Dinner?" he asks, his voice raspy.

"Yeah kid," McCoy replies, pulling back the blankets. "Nyota's here, too."

He sees the uncertain expression on Jim's face - the fear, the discomfort. "She is?" Jim wonders aloud as he swings his sock covered feet over the edge of the bed. "Bones…"

"It's just dinner, kid," McCoy tells him as he hands Jim a sweatshirt, watching as the younger man pulls it over his head and settles it on his body. He chuckles when he sees Jim's head coming through the hood with a scowl on his face. "If it gets too uncomfortable for you, you can fake falling asleep."

That brings a smile to Jim's lips. "Isn't that considered ethically amoral, doctor?" he asks as they make their way to the main living area.

"I won't tell if you don't," McCoy replies in a low voice as they step into the living area.

Uhura has finished setting up dinner, a casual affair, and is admiring her handiwork when she happens to turn her head to see them. "Hey stranger," she says to Jim with a grin plastered on her face.

Jim hesitates for the fewest of seconds before going to Uhura, who exchanges a bothered expression with McCoy over the younger man's shoulder.

Dinner is a quiet affair with only Uhura and McCoy keeping the conversation alive while Jim eats half of his dinner before poking at the rest with his fork.

Though Uhura doesn't know exactly what happened to Jim, she treats him as she always has and makes sure that the captain doesn't see the raised brows and worried glances.

Jim starts to nod off against McCoy's shoulder as he and Uhura discuss the ship's ongoing. The pressure of Jim's head against his shoulder gets heavier and heavier before Jim jerks, startling himself awake.

"Okay kid," McCoy says as he sets down his plate. "It's past your bedtime."

Jim scowls at him, tiredly, and mumbles, "It's _always_ my bedtime."

Uhura giggles as McCoy hauls Jim to his feet and guides him back to bed. As the doctor deposits the younger man on the bed and goes to retrieve his med kit for Jim's nightly hypos, McCoy hears Uhura clearing up in the main room.

"I hate this," Jim grumbles as he takes off his sweatshirt.

McCoy sits down next to him, hypos ready. "We already talked about the hypos," he says as he presses the hypo against the pale skin of Jim's neck and pulls the trigger.

"No," Jim hisses. "This. Being tired all of the time."

McCoy unloads another hypo into Jim's system. "You are three days out of a catatonic stupor – what you are experiencing is normal," he explains. As he puts the empty hypos back, McCoy turns back to Jim. "I know you hate this."

Jim shrugs as he falls back on the mattress and makes himself comfortable before McCoy pulls the blankets up to his shoulder. "Thanks Bones," he whispers.

"Anytime kid," he replies back before commanding the lights down - dark enough for Jim to fall asleep, but with enough so he is aware of his surroundings.

When he goes back out to the main room, Uhura looks upset though she's trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Leonard," she says quietly, her eyes bright.

McCoy nods. "He's going to be all right."

"He's like a different person," she replies in a harsh whisper. "No one told me…" Uhura brings a hand up to her cheek and wipes away her tears.

McCoy pulls her into a hug and leans his head against hers. "He's going to be fine," he tells her. "It's going to take some time, but Jim is going to be fine."

"I never imagined him like that…" he hears her choke into his shoulder. When Uhura pulls away, her cheeks are wet. "I want to kill the people who did this to him."

McCoy presses his lips together and swallows roughly. "They were taken care of," he assures her.

"How do you know?"

"Because it's Jim and he's come back from worse than this," McCoy replies, half lying. Being dead is one thing – a frightening thing – but coming back from hell…

…that is something else entirely.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

By all accounts the days that follow are good days, mostly because Jim is able to rest fitfully.

McCoy rouses him in the mornings to help him into the head to take a shower under the sonics and get some cereal in him before Jim all but passes out on the couch.

It doesn't matter that Jim drools a bit on the pillow underneath his head or doesn't so much as twitch when the tricorder is humming over him.

So McCoy gets Jim to fall into a routine: shower, breakfast, morning nap, lunch, reading or a holovid, dinner, hypos, and bed. It's simple and uncomplicated. There's room to make adjustments as Jim recovers and best of all, Jim is resting – _actually_ resting – and isn't trying to escape his quarters to find something to keep him busy.

His command crew comes by to visit and McCoy watches how Jim warily tolerates Uhura, Sulu, and Spock's presence.

He knows that Jim is reminded of their counterparts and while he knows that he's home, the young captain can't seem to shake the memory of what those people did to him.

Jim is always polite and tries his damnedest to be engaged, but McCoy can see how drained the visits leave him.

Spock, who has been scarce since taking over as captain, keeps his visits short. Despite being his robotic exterior, McCoy can see the concern whenever Spock goes to leave.

They are both wondering the same thing – will Jim be able to truly recover? Neither man kids themselves since they have witnessed firsthand the terrors that their friend and captain endured during the mind meld.

All they can do is wait.

And see.

At least Chekov and Scotty's visits bring a tired smile to Jim's face. Their constant chatter about anything and everything (and all the things in between) fills the captain's quarters with laughter.

It may distract McCoy from his work, but it's better than the uncomfortable silences and painful small talk that he's used to hearing when others come to visit.

"They saved me," Jim whispers to McCoy one night as they lie in bed, underneath the low light of the room. He avoids the doctor's eyes and stares at his fingers. "When I was there…they helped get me home."

McCoy already knows this, having seen it during the mind meld. He turns on his side, facing Jim. "And what about him?" he asks, referring to his proverbial twin who sacrificed his own life so that Jim could come back.

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet," Jim admits turning his head and looking away.

McCoy watches for any signs of distress, not knowing how much time has passed before Jim's breathing evens out and he's asleep.

He reaches out across the gap between them and touches the back of Jim's head, fingering the thick strands of hair.

McCoy realizes as he watches Jim sleep that the topic of the other Bones may be one that the younger man will never be able to talk about.

It's not that he lost a loved one, but because the doctor knew that in his grief stricken delirium, Jim thought he was losing everything in both realities and that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His fingers drift to the base of Jim's neck, massaging and caressing his skin. Unconsciously Jim pushes back into the gentle touch and hums contently in his sleep.

McCoy waits a while longer before retracting his hand and turning onto his back. He stares at the ceiling of Jim's bedroom until he doesn't remember falling asleep.

* * *

It's been a little over a week since Jim came out of his stupor and McCoy spends his morning hunched over Jim's desk with a stack of PADDs, going over requisition orders and medical charts.

The other occupant of the room has dozed off on the couch with a book settled on his chest.

Jim had made a valiant effort to fight off fatigue, grumbling as McCoy told him that sleep was good until his eyelids fluttered shut and he started snoring softly.

That was almost two hours ago and it has afforded McCoy time to get some work done in peace.

As he's updating a chart, McCoy hears the door to the joint head open. He looks up to see Spock standing in the doorway, his dark eyes resting on Jim's reclined form before turning to the doctor.

"Pardon me for my intrusion," he says, keeping his voice low. "I wanted to speak to you regarding my conversation with Admiral Archer."

McCoy feels his stomach tighten as he motions for Spock to follow him into Jim's bedroom. "Is he removing Jim from command?" he asks as soon as they are in the room.

"I can confirm that is not his intention," Spock replies, looking at McCoy with a curious expression. "Why would you come to that conclusion, doctor?"

McCoy arches a brow. "Nothing would surprise me at this point – _especially_ when it comes to offline conversations," he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Admiral Archer does not want to remove Jim from his command," Spock says. "However…"

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Great," he hisses.

"However," Spock continues, pointedly ignoring the doctor, "we have been asked to do an exploratory mission near the Beta quadrant in four days' time. Admiral Archer has offered to make the arrangements for you and the captain to go on a retroactive shore leave on Centaurus IV, as we will be passing by the planet with the course that Mr. Sulu has set."

This is not what McCoy was expecting. "Shore leave?" he echoes.

"The Admiral suggested that a change of scenery and what he refers to as fresh air may be beneficial for Jim's recovery," Spock replies. He furrows his brow. "I explained to the Admiral that the air circulation on the Enterprise is comprised fresh…"

McCoy chuckles. "It's a figure of speech, Spock," he says.

"Oh," Spock comments, arching a brow. "It is a very strange Terran saying. I told him that I would speak to you to confer if you agree with his assessment, as you are the CMO and the one who has been treating Jim."

McCoy pinches his lips together and cranes his head around the doorway, glancing at the shock of hair poking over the arm of the couch and the hand dangling off the side.

A change of scenery could be a good thing and would give Jim the opportunity to recover (and perhaps, grieve) without an entire ship watching.

"How long would we be staying there?" McCoy asks, his eyes still on Jim.

"Three weeks," Spock replies. "Our mission is approximately thirteen point seven days in length, plus an additional week of shore leave for the entire crew."

McCoy mulls it over quietly. Three weeks of no responsibilities and real sunlight. "Let me talk it over with him," he replies.

Spock inclines his head. "Very well."

Once the commander has left, McCoy goes to wake Jim with a gentle shake on his shoulder and equally gentle words that coax Jim out of nap.

Jim is bleary eyed and rubbing the sleep from his eyes as McCoy programs the replicator for their afternoon meal in silence.

"Spock came by," McCoy says over his shoulder. He turns to see Jim staring at him, his head tilted at an angle and his lips set in a grim line. "He's been speaking to Archer."

"About?"

"The _Enterprise_ has been assigned an exploratory mission in Beta quadrant and Archer suggested that perhaps you would want to go on a retroactive shore leave on Centaurus," McCoy replies, keeping his voice even as he gauges Jim's reaction.

This can go either way and while Jim has been fairly docile, he has his moments when he's moody and snaps at the slightest thing.

When the kid stays quiet, McCoy decides to press on, hoping that this won't end up with Jim getting upset.

"As your doctor, I would be accompanying you since you are still recovering and need supervision," McCoy adds as he brings their plates over and sets them down. "It would be three weeks of quiet and real sunshine."

Jim raises a questioning brow.

"You'll have your privacy," he amends as he pushes Jim's plate of food over to him. "We can sit and do nothing the entire time…whatever you want."

Jim is mulling it over as he pokes at his food with a fork before he starts eating. McCoy joins him, staying quiet and keeping his opinion to himself.

"I heard Farain is nice this time of year," Jim finally says with a pale version of that playful grin.

McCoy smiles back. "I heard something like that, too, kid," he replies. "Now eat your vegetables."

* * *

An hour before the _Enterprise_ docks at the space station above Centaurus IV, Jim has a private conversation with Admiral Archer behind the closed door of his bedroom.

McCoy is too preoccupied with making sure they have both packed everything they'll need for the next three weeks to really worry about what goes on behind closed doors.

Three weeks of fresh air, sand, and actual sunlight – it's a dream come true after several hellish weeks. While McCoy is worried about Jim, he knows that this will be good for him – to get away, to relax.

Well – it will be good for the both of them.

The island of Farain will allow them both to do all those things. The climate will be comfortable – like spring in Georgia – and since it's the off season, the resort they are staying in will be virtually empty.

It will just be them in a bungalow that overlooks the ocean.

McCoy finishes counting the hypos in his medical bag that contains Jim's medication and zips it up as the door to the bedroom slides open. "It's just your medication," he says as he puts the bag into his luggage, "and yes, you do need to take them."

He glances up and sees Jim standing in the doorway, wearing his civvies. The t-shirt and jeans are little loose on him, despite gaining back a little over three kilos. While it's not as much as McCoy had hoped for, it's progress and at least the younger man is looking less ill as each day passes.

Perhaps real food versus the replicated crap on board the ship will do Jim some good.

McCoy catches the lopsided grin on Jim's lips. "How is the Admiral?" he asks.

"I don't know how someone could be so relieved _and_ cantankerous," Jim replies.

McCoy snorts back a laugh. "Can you blame him?"

"No," Jim tells him as he sits down on the couch, watching the doctor as he grabs his sweater. "I guess not."

As he pulls his sweater over his head, McCoy catches Jim staring at him. "You alright there, kid?"

"I haven't seen you in civvies in a while," Jim says in a faraway voice. He flashes McCoy a grin. "For a while I wondered if I would ever see it again."

McCoy raises a brow and goes to sit down next to him. "I know it seems like you've just gotten home only to have to leave again, kid," he sighs, reaching to clasp Jim's shoulder. "If you don't want to do this…"

"Bones," Jim whines as he rolls his eyes, "it's fine."

McCoy sees a faint look of determination in Jim's eyes and decides to let it drop. He pats the younger man on the shoulder before getting off the couch and putting around Jim's quarters until it's time for them to leave.

The hallways are mercifully empty as Spock escorts them to the Space Station's main shuttle hub. There is no small talk or uncomfortable pauses, just silence as the three men make their way to the shuttle departing for Farain.

"Captain, I trust that you and Dr. McCoy will have a restful shore leave," Spock says as Jim and McCoy's luggage is being loaded onto the shuttle.

McCoy watches as Jim nods, avoiding the commander's gaze, who in turn looks at the doctor with a raised brow.

"Very well," Spock says before turning to McCoy to nod his head in acknowledgement. "Doctor, do not hesitate to contact me while you are planet side."

McCoy quirks one corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Commander," he replies. "Be safe in the Beta Quadrant."

"I shall," Spock states. "Captain, Doctor…safe travels."

The shuttle ride from the space station down to Farain is uneventful at best. McCoy and Jim catch a shuttle to the resort they are going to call home for the next three weeks.

The resort is charmingly rustic, reminding McCoy of his summers at the Outer Banks in North Carolina. The beaches are white pure and pristine and the water that surrounds the island is a deep shade of azure.

As McCoy is checking them in, he watches Jim out of peripherals as he goes to the lobby's porch and takes in the unfamiliar atmosphere. "Do you want to change and go down to the beach after we're all checked in?" McCoy calls as he signs his name on the PADD in front of him. He turns his head to see Jim nodding with the barest smile on his face.

It's late morning when they are escorted to their one story bungalow that overlooks the water. The bellhop sets their luggage down, dividing it between the two bedrooms as McCoy pokes around.

The bungalow has all of the necessities, including a real kitchen that McCoy cannot wait to cook in, a queen sized bed in each bedroom, a spacious and airy main room that boasts a fireplace, and a bathroom with a tub and shower that runs real water.

"Remind me to send Admiral Archer a thank you note," he jokes as he comes out of the bathroom to find Jim curled up on the couch in the living room.

McCoy walks over to him, noting that the kid had the sense to remove his boots and socks before making himself comfortable. "Dammit Jim," he whispers affectionately, reaching down to card his fingers through the sleeping man's hair.

A sigh passes through Jim's parted lips and he adjusts himself against the cushions, looking as relaxed as ever.

"Okay kid," McCoy sighs. "I'll wake you for lunch."

* * *

The first few days on Farain are spent lazing around the bungalow. They fall into a new routine of sloth and relaxation.

By the morning of the fourth day, McCoy notices that the uneasiness that Jim was wearing like a second skin is starting to melt away.

That smile is returning and it makes the corners of Jim's eyes crinkle.

He's starting to laugh again - not the tired chuckle from before, but really laughing and joking, too.

They still sleep in the same bed - despite the small victories, the haunted look that crawls across Jim's features at night still remains.

He comes to the living room, having luxuriated in the shower for longer than necessary, to find Jim outside on the porch, leaning against the rail.

McCoy takes in the sight of his friend, bare foot and soaked in natural sunlight that seems to make his eyes even more blue when Jim turns to look at McCoy.

Jim smiles as McCoy joins him. "Want to race to the beach?" he asks.

"All right," McCoy replies.

They don't exactly race down to the beach since there is no rush for once. McCoy watches as Jim rolls up the legs of his jeans and goes to where the sand and water meet.

As the water laps at Jim's bare feet, it seems that the uneasiness and - dare McCoy even think it - shyness are being washed away. The captain turns his head and flashes the doctor a familiar smile that reaches his eyes.

"I know you like your stars and the black," McCoy comments as he joins Jim at the ocean's edge, letting the warm water run over his feet, "but this is better than the Beta Quadrant."

This earns a chuckle from Jim who is busy running his big toe in the water. McCoy raises a brow and nudges the younger man with his shoulder.

He expects Jim to shrug, perhaps wrinkle his nose in disagreement which will be followed up with a groan and an eye roll.

Instead Jim tackles - _fucking_ tackles - him. McCoy lets out a cry of surprise and a string of curse words as they both fall into the water.

McCoy sputters as he untangles himself from Jim, who is howling with laughter as he gets on his hands and knees. "Dammit Jim!" McCoy snaps as he slips on the wet sand and topples back into the water.

When he looks up, Jim is still laughing and now has tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. McCoy grunts and splashes a wave of ocean water at the younger man, which hits him in the face.

"Hey!" Jim shouts before firing back with his feet, kicking ridiculous amounts of water at McCoy.

McCoy holds up a hand, trying to block the onslaught, and yells, "Watch those feet, you infant!" He hits the water with his free hand, sending another arch of water that goes barreling towards Jim.

"Son of a…" Jim cries, shooting McCoy an electric blue glare.

McCoy wipes the water and his hair from his face. "I'll have you know that my momma is a woman of impeccable breeding," he chortles as he rises to his feet, pulling at the soaking wet clothing that sticks to his skin.

He hears Jim grumbling incoherently, which only makes McCoy laugh harder as he starts to wade through the water.

McCoy is literally inches away from the shoreline when Jim launches himself with a growl at the doctor and knocks them back into the water. As Jim attempts to scramble away, laughing like a maniac, McCoy grabs him around his middle, pulling the younger man back into the water.

McCoy has Jim pinned under him, their bodies pressed into each other. He's suddenly aware of each ridge and muscle molded together, the warmth of their skin, and Jim staring up at him with those blue eyes.

"Bones?" Jim whispers, licking his lips nervously.

Jim's cheeks are flushed pink, an enticing vision, and McCoy decides right then that it looks good on him as he closes the distance between them, brushing his lips against Jim's in a tentative kiss.

He feels the younger man's breath hitch in surprise before Jim's body relaxes and his lips, dry and tasting of salt and brine, kiss back.

It's sweet and slow and chaste, yet it still manages to send a jolt through McCoy's body as their lips brush against each other.

As Jim's tongue flicks against McCoy's lower lip, a wave slaps them both in the face because the universe is one massive cock block.

"That's a mood killer," McCoy coughs, trying to get the burn of salt water out of his nostrils. He turns to Jim who is spitting out water. "You okay, kid?"

Jim grins back at him with kiss swollen lips and pushes himself to his feet. "Never better," he replies as he extends his hand to McCoy and helps the doctor up. "You?"

Instead of answering, McCoy kisses him again, taking his sweet time in opening up Jim's mouth with lips and tongue.

The vibration of the younger man's moans pulses into his chest and straight to his groin, making McCoy groan in reply. Pressing his hands against Jim's back, McCoy pulls him closer just as their tongue touch, slick and hot.

Jim is fisting the soggy fabric of his shirt as the kiss grows more passionate, bordering on inappropriate as McCoy cups the back of the younger man's head.

"Bones," Jim murmurs against his lips. "Bones."

McCoy pulls back slightly, staring Jim down and taking in each and every freckle and scar on his face. "Yeah?"

"What took you so long to do that?" Jim asks without a hint of smugness, just raw amazement.

McCoy brushes the hair off of Jim's forehead and shrugs. "I don't know," he admits as he presses his lips against the younger man's pulse. "Jim, I love you."

"I…I love you, too," Jim whispers, nuzzling his nose against McCoy's cheek.

Now normally, McCoy is a patient man, despite his surly demeanor, but as he drags Jim back to the bungalow – he realizes that patience can wait when it comes to getting them both naked.

He's pretty sure that there is a trail of wet clothing that goes from the porch to the bedroom, not that it matters as Jim's lips and tongue clash against his own.

Once he has Jim on the bed, that's when McCoy's senses kick back in and he slows them down, wanting to savor this moment and the feel of Jim's naked body against his.

He realizes that patience is key as he slowly opens Jim up, using one lube slick finger at a time. He scissors, he stretches, and moves at a precise angle, igniting a series of moans and a begging from Jim's pink and oh so sinfully kiss swollen lips.

It is a marvel, watching Jim writhe below him, his blunt fingernails digging into the doctor's arm as McCoy adds a second finger into his tight passage. "Bones," he nearly sobs, his back arching off the mattress.

When Jim looks up at him with those glistening blue eyes, the pupils blown wide with arousal, McCoy nearly loses all composure and takes him right there.

Instead, he shakes his head as he leans over Jim, their lips just millimeters apart. "Not yet," he whispers against Jim's mouth. "Not yet, Jim."

"Please…" Jim pleads, his lips brushing against McCoy's, wet and hot. "Please…Bones."

McCoy hushes him as he nips at Jim's lower lip, slipping in a third finger. His fingers brush against Jim's prostate, rubbing and teasing, feeling the captain shudder under him. "I've got you, Jim," he promises over Jim's anticipatory panting. McCoy takes the opportunity to take Jim in one slick hand, feeling the heavy weight of the younger man's leaking cock against his palm. "I always got you."

"God Bones," Jim moans, his breath hot against McCoy's skin.

It doesn't take long for Jim to shatter underneath him, just three quick strokes of his doctor's hands. Jim comes undone, his broken voice filling McCoy's ears, alternating between wordless cries and telling the doctor how much he wants him, loves him, needs him.

Of course McCoy pulls back to see Jim's face, drinking in the flush of his cheeks, his tightly closed eyes, and the blissed out expression on his face as the captain's orgasm reaches its peak and he comes tumbling down into McCoy's awaiting arms.

When McCoy pushes into Jim's hot, slick passage, he thinks that nothing could be this good, this right, this perfect. He takes his time and watches as Jim adjusts to the stretch and the burn, awestruck by how much more beautiful the sight is in person rather than in his fantasies.

He's fully sheathed inside Jim, bottoming out and sharing a groan with the younger man beneath him. When McCoy opens his eyes and swallows, he catches a glimpse of a smile on Jim's lips.

It's the smile the kid has when he's relieved or ridiculously overjoyed. It's a rarity and McCoy has only seen it twice in his friendship with Jim: the first time when he appeared on the transporter pad with Pike leaning heavily on him for support and the second when they came out of the mind meld only several weeks ago.

It still burns as brightly as a supernova.

He feels Jim's hand cupping the back of his head - the warm of his palm and the brush of his fingers against his hair - and hears Jim whisper, "C'mere" before pulling McCoy into a kiss.

That's McCoy's cue to move. He does so at a careful pace, mindful of Jim's still healing body, and savors the sensations that being with the younger man makes him feel. McCoy brushes a hand against Jim's forehead, touching his sweat slick skin and hair, as his lips and tongue dance against Jim's.

McCoy runs his hand down, his fingers brushing against Jim's jaw, his throat and neck, tracing the line of his collarbone with his thumb, along the underside of his ribcage, and to the crest of Jim's hip.

"God Bones," Jim breathes against McCoy's lips as the good doctor hooks the kid's leg over his hip, changing the angle of his thrusts. Jim bows and arches as McCoy hits his prostate, tightening his grip against the doctor's head as his other hand fists the sheets. "Oh god…"

It takes infinite patience and skill, but McCoy brings Jim back to life as their bodies move against the mattress, Jim's erection throbbing against the doctor's stomach.

"Please," Jim begs against his cheek, his breath hot and wet.

McCoy lifts his head, hazel eyes looking into cerulean blue. "Please what?" he replies, his voice hitching as Jim's channel tightens around him. He looks so beautiful, laying in complete surrender under McCoy's body that the doctor can hardly stand it. So beautiful and wounded, so perfect and solid beneath him, like Jim was always meant to be there. "Please what, Jim?"

"I won't break," Jim groans, his eyes fluttering close as he presses his head into the pillow, exposing the clean line of his neck. "I swear I won't break…"

It's the type of promise that is fluid in meaning and it's all the permission McCoy needs to go harder and faster.

He grips the firm muscle of Jim's ass, digging his fingernails into the smooth skin. Jim shivers and cries out in approval as he meets McCoy's thrusts.

The tension is building in his body as his skin becomes sweat slick and hot. McCoy captures Jim's mouth with his own, tasting the saltiness that gathers in the younger man's cupid's bow. It's a battle of tongues, teeth, and lips punctuated with moans.

McCoy lets go of Jim's leg, snaking his arm between them and gathering Jim's length in his hand. As his thumb draws over the underside of Jim's leaking head, McCoy hears the younger man practically sob.

"Bones," Jim breathes, breaking the kiss and gasping for oxygen. "Bones, I can't…"

McCoy growls in approval as he smears precum over the sensitive skin of Jim's cockhead, hearing the captain choke back a groan. "You can," he whispers into the hollow of Jim's neck and strokes Jim's length, earning a whine from the captain. "You can. Let me hear you, Jim."

He aims for Jim's prostate with a surgeon's precision as his hand strokes Jim to completion for the second time. McCoy watches as Jim's mouth goes slack, making sounds that should be illegal through those full, pink lips. "Darlin', come for me," McCoy urges, his voice honey thick and bourbon soaked.

McCoy watches as those blue eyes fly open, pupils blown wide and hardly any iris showing, as he pulls Jim's orgasm out of him. Their eyes meet just for a moment as Jim's body goes rigid, his face registering shock and awe.

"Oh god. Fuck…Bones," Jim pants just before he falls to pieces in McCoy's arms.

He holds Jim through it, his hips pistoning against his body, milking the younger man's climax for all it's worth and listening to his shredded cries of pleasure.

It seems endless - just the sound of Jim's voice, McCoy's heavy breathing, skin against skin, deep and dark places coming to life.

As Jim collapses against the mattress, spent and exhausted, McCoy's orgasm rips through him, catching him unaware.

He roars a shattered cry into Jim's neck as his hips pulsate in time with his cock as it fills Jim's passage with his semen. His mind goes blissfully blank as McCoy stills his movements and collapses against Jim's still heaving chest.

They lay there, boneless, and breathing in each other's post-orgasmic haze.

Then Jim's fingers are in his damp hair, massaging his scalp in small circles. McCoy is content to just stay there, watching Jim's nipple pebbling from his hot breath blowing against the pink nub.

"Bones," Jim says in a small voice from somewhere above him as he wraps an arm around McCoy's waist.

McCoy grunts in reply, too hazy to come up with intelligible words.

"Is it always going to be like this?" Jim asks, his voice sounding far away.

He raises himself to his elbows, ignoring the stickiness of Jim's semen against his stomach, and looks at the younger man with a curious expression. "Is what going to be like this?" McCoy questions him in a soft tone, watching as Jim's eyelids droop.

"Is it always going to be like this with us?" Jim clarifies with a lazy grin.

McCoy studies him and nods slowly. "Yeah kid," McCoy chuckles. "It will always be like this."

"Good," Jim tells him as his eyes slip shut, the lazy grin softening. "I hoped it would be."

McCoy snorts, muttering something about how this is typical Jim Kirk behavior as he untangles their limbs and withdraws from the younger man's come and lube slick hole.

He does what's he's always done, since the first day they met, and takes care of Jim: cleaning him up, wiping him down, and making sure that he's comfortable as McCoy spoons him from behind. Jim sighs as he presses himself against the doctor's chest.

"I missed you," Jim whispers, his lips moving against McCoy's arm that pillows his head.

McCoy presses his lips against Jim's hair. "Missed you too, kid," he murmurs. "Don't you ever do that to me again."

Jim hums in agreement. "Don't plan on it," he says drowsily. "Just don't leave me, okay?"

"The thought never crossed my mind," McCoy tells him.

"I couldn't handle it if I lost both of you," he whispers, his voice teetering on the edge of tears.

McCoy frowns and raises his head, looking down at Jim, whose eyes are watering. "You're not going to lose me, kid," he says carefully, feeling the pit of his stomach tightening with worry.

Jim swallows, roughly as tears disappear into his hair line. "I can't do it again," he chokes out through trembling lips. "I can't…I lose you, too. I can't…"

"Shh," McCoy murmurs as he pulls Jim to him, cradling the younger man in his arms. "It's going to be okay, Jim. I'm not going to leave you, okay? I'm staying right here."

Jim shudders against him, burying his head into McCoy's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "Bones, I'm sorry…"

"You have nothing to apologize for," McCoy tells him, holding him tighter. "We're fine. Everything is fine. If you want to talk about it later, we can, but we don't have to. It's up to you, kid."

"I'm a fucking train wreck," Jim whines as he bats away newly fallen tears and pulls away from McCoy, just enough for the doctor to see his face. Jim presses his palm to his forehead as his skin flushes.

McCoy kisses the younger man's temple. "Well that hasn't changed since we've met," he quips, earning a groan from the captain.

"Fuck you, man," Jim grumbles with a grin. "This isn't even official and you're already the worst boyfriend in the known universe."

McCoy snorts. "I gave you_ two_ orgasms, you ungrateful brat!"

"I'll make sure to put that in your personnel file," Jim says with a devious grin on his face. "Do you think Starfleet will give you a medal?"

Instead of responding with a sharp retort, McCoy smacks Jim in the face with one of the pillows.

The results are far more satisfying.


End file.
